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THE. "J
i Science of Ethics
BY
REV. MICHAEL CRONIN, M.A., D.D.
I'rofesSDr of Ktliics and Polincs
University College, Dublin
National University of Ireland
VOLUME II
SI'ECIAL KTHICS
LONGMANS, GREKN AND CO.
39 I'ATKRNOSTKk ROW, LONDON
NKW Yr)KK, HOMHAY, lAl.Cl nA, AND MADKAS
AL H. GILL AND SON. LTD.
50 Ul'FKk OCONXF.Ll, STKKKT, DUHLIN
1917
6J
low
CI
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
On Natural Religion (pp. 1-46) —
PAGE
Definition .......
I
Nature .......
3
Presuppositions of religion ....
5
How ordinary men may know of God's
existence by natural reason .
6
Necessity and ground of religion .
II
Objections ......
12
Erroneous theories of Kant and others .
13
The acts of religion .....
15
Vices opposed to religion ....
20
Superstition .....
20
Irreligion ......
22
Man's duty of loving God ....
23
Appendix —
The primitive races and natural religion
31
The alleged pre-religious period
32
Erroneous theories on origin of religion
40
Monotheism — the earliest stage in historj
r
of religion ....
43
CHAPTER II
A Man's Duties Concerning Himself and some of
HIS Duties towards Others (pp. 47-79) —
Our duties towards ourselves .... 48
On Suicide ....... 52
On the indirect compassing of one's own death 56
IV
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
A M\n's Duties — continued
Our duties towards ourselves — continued
PAGE
Qn Temperance .....
. 59
Law of temperance
. 60
in eating and drinking
. 60
in regard to sex
. 63
Some duties towards others.
. 66
Charity ......
. 66
Speaking the truth ....
. 69
Mental restrictions
. 77
CHAPTER III
Our Duties towards Others, continued —
On
Justice (pp. 80-112)—
General Observations .....
. 80
Commutative Justice — its ground
. 81
—its end .
. 84
Whether it is lawful to kill animals
. 86
Personal injuries
• 93
Whether criminals may be put to death
• 93
Whether an innocent man may be put to de
ath 96
Killing in self-defence ....
• 97
Accidental killing ....
. 103
Duelling ......
. 105
Injures to hberty ....
. 109
Injuries to honour, reputation, friendship .
. no
CHAPTER IV
On Private Ownership and on Communism (pp. 113-
149)—
Definition of private ownership ....
Kinds of private ownership ....
Grounds of private ownership ....
The individual interest ....
113
114
115
118
CONTENTS
On Private Ownership — continued
The family interest
The general interest
Duties attaching to ownership
The natural titles of ownership
Occupancy .
Labour
Gift ....
Bequest
Intestate succession
Certain civil titles of ownership —
Prescription
Accretion .
PAGE
122
126
136
143
144
145
146
147
149
CHAPTER V
Socialism (pp. 150-184) —
Definition ........ 150
History of modern socialism .... 152
Karl Marx 156
Syndicalism ...... 160
Grounds of Socialism ...... 160
The materialistic view of history . . . 162
Supposed law of concentration in capital . 163
Smaller industries not disappearing . 163
No tendency to unlimited concentra-
tion in large industries . . . 174
Such concentration as exists is not in
direction of socialism . . .180
CHAPTER VI
Grounds of Socialism, continued— {p^. 185-225)—
The surplus- value of labour . . .185
Manual labour not the only factor in pro-
duction— importance of industrial ability 187
Vi
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Grounds of Socialism — continued
The surplus-value of labour — continued
A third factor in production — the natural
sources ....
Some difficulties answered .
Crises ......
Are they necessary under capitalism
Causes of crises
Are they possible under socialism .
The exploitation of labour .
The reserve-army of labour
The ' iron-law ' of wages
Recent modifications of the ' iron law
PAGE
194
199
201
203
204
209
214
217
220
223
CHAPTER VII
Present Wages and Socialist Incomes Compared
(pp. 225-252)—
Explanation of problem — position of wage-earners 221
Division of national income in 1904-5 . . . 228
Summary of result ..... 232
Incomes under socialism ..... 235
Difficulty — the theory that under socialism
absolute loss is impossible .... 248
CHAPTER VIII
Remaining Defects of Socialism — Summary of Case
AGAINST Socialism (pp. 253-297)—
Effect of Socialism on —
Public as producers
Public as buyers . ' .
Resumption of arguments against socialism
Financial impossibility of socialism
Socialism opposed to human welfare
Socialism and the individual interest
254
257
2O0
260
261
265
CONTENTS vii
Remaining Defects — continued page
Socialism opposed to human welfare — continued
Socialism and the family interest . 268
Socialism and the general interest . 271
Limits of lawful nationalisation . . . . 275
Appendix A —
Nationalisation of the land .... 280
The systems of private ownership in land 280
Whether land can be privately owned . 281
Necessity of private ownership in land . 282
Inefficacy of proposed methods for
eliminating private ownership . . 284
Inefficacy of methods for administering the
land under socialism .... 286
Appendix B —
Nationalisation of the coal-mines . . 289
Appendix C —
Nationalisation of unearned increment in
building-sites ...... 290
Appendix D —
Theory of primitive communism in land . 291
CHAPTER IX
On Contracts (pp. 298-312) —
Definition ......
. 278
Consent .....
. 299
Effect of error on consent
. 301
fear
. 305
Object of contract
. 306
The contracting parties
. 309
Kinds of contract ....
. 309
CHAPTER X
Some Particular Contracts (pp. 313-353) —
Promise ........ 313
Gift 314
Vlll
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Some Particular Co-stracts —cotttinued
PAGE
Buying and selling
Obligations of seller
The just price
Auction sales
316
320
Monopolies
Contracts of chance .
325
32&
Bailments
328
Loan of money .
Just rate of interest
The wages-contract
Its nature
328
333
334
335
The minimum just wage
343
CHAPTER XI
The wages-contract, continued — On Strikes (pp. 354-
371)—
Definition and kinds of strikes
Morality of strikes
The simple or direct strike .
Conditions of a just strike
The trades-union executives
The sympathetic strike
The general strike
The remedy ....
354
355
356
360
363
364
369
370
On
CHAPTER
XII
Injustice in regard to
Property
AND ON
Restitution (pp. 372-84)-
-
Stealing ....
• 374
Duty of restitution
. 377
Possession mala fide
. 377
Possession bona fide
• 379
Doubtful ownership
. 380
CONTENTS
IX
On Injustice in regard to Property — continued page
Damage 380
Duty of restitution ..... 383
Co-operation . 383
CHAPTER XIII
The Family and Marriage (pp. 385-414)
Definition of society
Kinds of society
The family
Marriage .
Ends of marriage
Necessity of marriage
Causes or springs of marriage
Positivist opinions.
Theory of primitive promiscuity
385
387
388
389
390
392
400
402
404
CHAPTER XIV
The Attributes of Marriage (pp. 415-460)
Primary and secondary laws
Unity of marriage
Monogyny versus Polygyny
Monandry versus Polyandry
Indissolubility of marriage .
By the primary principles of natural law
marriage must endure until the family is
fully reared
By the secondary principles of natural law
marriage is absolutely indissoluble, lasting
to the end of Ufe
Case of infertihty
The natural impediments .
Consanguinity
Parent and child marriages
Brother and sister marriages
415
419
4^9
425
429
430
435
441
442
443
444
447
X THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The Attributes of Marriage — continued page
Consanguinity — contmued
The remote degrees . . . , ^49.
Endogamy and exogamy . . .451
- Appendix- -histot ical
Polygyny : Polyandry : Indissolubility . 455,
CHAPTER XV
The State — its Nature, Origin and En
D (pp. 461-
503)—
Definition .....
461
Origin .....
462'
The State — a natural institution
471
End of State ....
472
On governmental interference
477
in regard to marriage
479
„ „ education .
486
Appendix —
The Social Contract Theory .
491
Theory of Hobbes, Kant, etc.
491
Theory of Suarez and Card. Bellarmine
499
CHAPTER XVI
The State— its parts (pp. 504-556)—
The people ....
504
On nationalities .
507
Territory .....
513
Authority of State
515
Grounds of political authority
515
Titles „
517
Popular election .
519
Possession .
519
Conquest
521
Prescription .
522
Popular consent
532
Exclusive ability to govern
537
CONTENTS
xi
TiiE State — its parts — continued page
Consequences of authority .... 538
Rebellion
540
Attributes of authority
544
Unity ....
544
Sovereignty .
545
Conception of
545
Content of
548
Necessity of .
551
Seat ot .
553
CHAPTER XVII
The Forms of State— Constitutions (pp. 557-598) —
Classification of forms
. 557
Unitary and federal States .
563
Confederations and alliances
565
Constitutions ....
567
Definition ....
567
Kinds ....
568
Monarchy .....
570
Aristocracy ....
574
Democracy ....
575
Swiss referendum and initiative
. 576
The best State ....
584
Appendix —
Prerogative of English monarch
592
CHAPTER XVIII
The Functions of Sovereignty (pp. 599-632) —
slation ....
599
Relation of civil to natural law
599
Organ of legislation
600
The party system
601
The dual-party system .
604
The two-chamber system
606
The case of dead-lock .
609
Xll
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The Functions of Sovereignty — continued
The executive .
The judicial function .
Duties of judges ,
,, ,, advocates
Trial by jury
Separation of the powers
Effects of over-separation
Parliamentary government
Cabinet government
The administrative courts
CHAPTER XIX
International Law (pp. 633-679) —
Subjects of international law
Kinds of ,, ,, . .
Nature of „ ,, . .
The natural precepts of international law
Justice. ....
Charity ....
Principle of non-intervention
Treaties ......
War
Definition .....
Kinds .....
Lawful war always defensive
Killing in war is indirect
Combatants and non-combatants .
Air-raids and^sinking of merchant ships
Reprisals .....
Conditions of just war .
Close of war ....
APPENDICES
The Financial Impossibility of Socialism
Natural and Revealed Religion
081
682
THE
SCIENCE OF ETHICS
CHAPTER I
ON NATURAL RELIGION
DEFINITION
By religion * is meant the worship of God, the supreme
origin, cause, and ruler of the world. Natural religion
is the worship of God as determined by reason alone :
or, more fully, it is that body of religious truths and
the duties resulting from them which our reason
makes known to us without revelation.
* The derivation of the word is uncertain. Some derive it from
relegere, a reiterated reading of or thinking upon the things of God ;
some from re-eligere or the constant choice of <k)d ; others from
re-ligare, i.e., a continued binding of the soul to, or union with God.
Mr. Westermarck derives the word from re-ligare, but considers that
it arose out of the practice common to certain savage races of binding
sacred things in cloths or rags.
Our definition given in the text, which is evidently based upon the
essentials of religion in its highest form — monotheism, at once suggests
the difficulty that many of the lower forms of religion were true at
least in part, and therefore that they ought to find a place in our
definition of religion. It will be found, however, that the essentials
of these primitive forms are preserved in our definition of religion, a
proof of which is that our definition, as will presently be seen, is in
almost all respects the same definition that is adopted by those who
attempt to define religion by abstracting from the various primitive
religions their common content {see p. lo). In any case, in defining
religion according to its highest form, which is monotheism, we are
only following the analogy of the various sciences which in defining
their terms make use only of the developed conceptions of science,
ignoring all discarded ideas and beliefs as either inadequate or untrue.
The primitive religions have disappeared. They have been finally
repudiated by civilised men. Polytheism is not the accepted doctrine
of any developed people to-day. In this fact alone, apart altogether
from what is revealed by a critical examination of these primitive
religions taken in themselves, we find ample evidence of their untruth
VOL. II — I I
2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Our duties toM'ards God are of two kinds, those de-
pending on charit}' and those depending on justice. By
charity we are bound to the love of God our final end.
Justice prescribes the rendering, to God of all the worship
due to God as the first cause, as creator and sovereign
ruler of the world, from whom we have received our
being, and on whom we are totally dependent in every
need of existence and of life. By charity w^e are bound
to God as one with us, all love being based on the unity
of the thing loved with the lover.* As a part of justice
religion defines our duties to God as distinct from us,
and God's rights as against us. As a part of charity
religion binds the soul to God, its highest good, as a
virtue of justice religion consists in the payment to
God of what we owe Him, and thus getting out of His
debt.
Now in a wide sense f religion may be regarded as
comprising all of our duties to God, those of charity and
those of justice. But in its stricter sense it is confined
to the worship of God as defined by justice alone. It is
as a part of justice that we shall consider natural religion
in the present chapter : at the end of our discussion.
or their inadequacy, and, therefore, we are justified in defining religion
according to the form which it attains in its highest development.
" He," says Euckcn (" The Truth of Religion," p. i) " who wishes to
ascertain the intrinsic truth of religion need neither trace its blurred
beginnings in time nor pursue its slow ascent, but may take liis stand
upon the summit of its development." It is, however, our intention
in the present chapter, and so far as the purpose of this work permits,
to give ample consideration to these primitive religions.
• See Vol. I. p. 320.
t It is in this broad sense that St. Thomas uses the word in S.
Theol., II. II. Q. LXXI. art i, where he speaks of religious worship
as due to God, " cui principaliter alligari dcbcmus tamquam inde-
ficicnti principio : ad (piem etiam nostra electio assiduc dirigi debet,
sicut in ultimum fincm." \\v defines religion in its more jirccise sense
as a part of justice in the third article of the same (juestion where he
writes : " ad religionem pertinet exhibere reverentiam uni Deo
secundum unam rationem ; in quantum scilicet est i)rinium principium
crcationis et gubernationis rerum " ; and again in the first article of
the same (picstion — " dominium convenit l)eo secundum propriam et
singularem quandam rationem ; quia scilicet ipse omnia fecit ; et
quia summum in omnil)us rebus obtinet princi|)atun> ; et id<'o speciali.s
ratio Horvitutis ei debetur, et talis scrvitus nomine latriac designatur."'
I
NATURAL RELIGION 3
however, will be added a brief consideration of man's
duty to God as grounded on charity.*
THE NATURE OF RELIGION
The definition which we have just given will enable
us to distinguish three elements that go to make up the
complete notion of religion, viz. the object, the motive,
and the act of religion.
The object of religion is God. All religious honour is
paid to Him, and finally rests in Him. Now there are
some creatures who stand in very close and intimate
relationship with God, who are His special friends, to
whom it is given in an especial way to reflect His glory,
who also by Divine appointment occupy an intermediate
position between God and man, sometimes acting as
intercessors for man, and sometimes as God's special
representatives and emissaries. To these also religious
honour is given of a secondary kind and in a secondary
and dependent way only. They are honoured, not for
themselves, but merely as God's friends and representa-
tives. The first and final object of all religious honour
is God.
The motive of religious worship is man's indebtedness
to, and dependence on, the Supreme Being. Our in-
debtedness to, and dependence on God are of the most
complete and absolute kind. First, He is our creator, our
first cause, the ultimate principle of our being. From
Him we have received all that we are and have. More-
over, as our creator He is also the sustainer of our
existence. Without His helping hand we should dis-
solve into the nothingness out of which we came. In
Him, therefore, we live and move and have our being.
Secondly, God is the supreme ruler of the universe.
♦A difference between religion as a part of justice and religion as
a part of charity that follows from the fundamental difference given
in the text is that religion as a part of justice relates to the things to
be done in order to satisfy our indebtedness to God ; charity relates
to God Himself immediately and directly.
4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
From Him proceed all the laws, physical and moral, by
which the world (and man in particular) is directed
to its end. He, therefore, is supreme lord and master,
and in Him is the fullness of power and authority in
regard to all creatures. We are, therefore, in a position
of absolute dependence on God, dependent on His good-
ness for what we are and have, and dependent upon
His authority as supreme ruler of the universe. The
virtue of religion, as a part of justice, consists in the
acknowledgment of this condition of dependence and
in paying off our debt to the Divine goodness, in so far
as in us lies, by acts of religion.
The act of religion is worship. As we have seen, our
indebtedness to God is of a very special kind, and
worship is the act whereby we acknowledge this special
indebtedness. Just as there are special acts whereby
a child acknowledges its own position of subjection and
the father's position of authority, and other acts whereby
the supremacy of a monarch is acknowledged, so also
there must be special acknowledgment of our indebted-
ness to, and dependence on, God ; and the act whereby
we acknowledge this special indebtedness is worship.*
Love and reverence may be paid to creatures : worship
is given to God alone. We love a person for the goodness
that is in him ; we reverence those who excel in good-
ness ; but worship is extended only to the infinite and
incommunicable excellence of the Supreme Being.
We should, of course, in acknowledging our relation to
God, express not only our own condition of dependence,
but also the special excellence of God, His greatness,
independence, and majesty, as compared with us. But
these are the opposing terms of the one relation, and,
therefore, they arc expressed by the same act. " B}'
one and the same act," writes St. Thomas, " we acknow-
ledge the excellence of God (the act of homage — culius)
and our condition of subjection {scrviius) ; and worship
•S. Thcol., II., II., LXXXf., 4,
NATURAL RELIGION 5
is due on both accounts." * But justice regards not
so much the excellence of the giver, as the indebtedness
of him who receives ; and, therefore, religion as a part
of justice will primarily regard and be based upon the
indebtedness and dependence of the creature in regard
to God.
Corollary.
This being the nature of religion, it follows that any
supposed forms of worship which fail to fulfil the con-
ditions we have enumerated are not to be regarded as
religions in the true sense or even as parts of the true
religion. What are sometimes spoken of as nature-
worship, soul-worship or animism, fetish-worship, are
not real religions but shadows only, or spurious imita-
tions of religion. The feelings that animate these so-
called forms of worship may, indeed, present certain
analogies to the religious feeling, just as the fear of a
man presents analogies to our fear of God. But just as
the fear of a man has not in it even the first beginnings
of religious worship, this latter being proper to God
alone, so also there is only one kind of worship which
is really religious, viz. the worship of the true God.
The rest is false religion, superstition, or, as we have
said, the shadow of religion only. What these spurious
religions are, and what is their relation to the worship
of the true God, and how they originated, are questions
of great importance ; they will be considered in a later
portion of the present chapter.
THE PRESUPPOSITIONS OF RELIGION
Without a knowledge of God there could be no re-
ligion. We cannot worship that which we do not know.
This knowledge and the divine truths to which it relates
* II., II., Q. LXXXI., Art. 3.
6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
are spoken of as the presuppositions of religion. These
presuppositions we now proceed to define.
(i) In the first place we must know that God exists.
A man could not worship that which is either known to
be non-existent or the existence of which is doubtful.
Religion is the giving up of one's whole heart and soul
to God, and only he who knows and believes that God
exists is capable of such an act. Two conclusions follow
— first, that since religious worship is a duty, it is our
duty also to know God ; secondly, that wherever re-
ligion exists or has existed, there God either is known or
has been known — His name either is, or once was, upon
the lips and in the hearts of the people. Now a know-
ledge of God's existence may be acquired in either of
two ways — either by revelation or by the use of our
natural reason. It is the second kind of knowledge,
that, viz. which is acquired by our natural reason, that
forms the first and chief presupposition of natural
religion.
How ordinary men may know of God's cxisttncc by natural
reason alone.
A problem of great interest and importance here suggests
itself. Since religion in some form has always existed
amongst men, and since religion is the possession not merely
of men who are scientifically equipped for the pursuit of
difficult reasoning, but of ordinary men also, the question
arises how it is possible for the ordinary mind, without the
aid of revelation, to come to a knowledge of God's existence.
It should of course be remembered, in considering a question
of this kind, tliat for his knowledge tlie individual is very
rarely left to his own resources, that he lias always access to,
and is, in a sense, necessarily the recipient of the conclusions
yielded by the combined thinking of the race or tribe to
which he belongs, that most races, even those least learned
and civilised, have their special tliinkcrs and teachers, and
that to these also the individual can have recourse on problems
whose full solution he might regard as exceeding liis own
individual cajiacities. The form, tlierefore, in wliich our
j)n'S('nt ])rol)lcm ]iresents itself is wlielher there arc any
proofs avaihd)le for God's existence wliich lie within the
NATURAL RELIGION 7
mental compass of any ordinary individual who cared not
only to use his own powers of observation and reasoning but
also to avail himself of such intellectual aids as are ordinarily
afforded to the individual by his social environment, even
amongst the least civihsed races ?
Our answer (which must be exceedingly brief in form,
this question being rather one for the science of Natural
Theology than for Ethics) is that there are many ways in
which a knowledge of God could be brought home even to
the ordinary uneducated mind by reason alone and without
the aid of revelation, (a) In the first place the plainest and
most unthinking man must realise that the world has a
cause. That events are produced by causes is a proposition
which no ordinary intellect would think of rejecting. The
category of cause is as simple and necessary as the category
of being itself. Kant and Hume may raise certain meta-
physical objections to causality, but these objections would
not occur to, or, if they occurred to, would certainly have
no weight with ordinary minds. To the plain man it is an
obvious truth that the things that he sees around him have
not brought themselves into existence, that he himself has
not caused his own existence, that his parents are not the
full cause of his Ufe since there is so much in the body and
mind of man which they do not understand and which they
could not possibly contrive, that they themselves are caused
by some one outside of themselves, etc. His mind thus
naturally travels up to the thought of One who has made
all things, the founder and creator of the universe.* (b)
Secondly, to the ordinary mind the evidences from design
are not only most intelligible but most convincing also.
The general order of the world suggests the thought of a
mind over-shadowing and over-ruling all ; the element of
design evident in every living thing, in the aptitude of every
organ for the performance of its own functions, and in the
sum of the organs for providing for all the necessities of our
* Judging from the attestation of those who have had most
opportunity of examining and analysing the beliefs of early man, this
line of reasoning is not merely to be regarded as a possible ground for
his religion— it seems to have been actually also the ground of his
beliefs. Ed. B. Tylor attests that the religious beliefs of the savage
races were due not to " spontaneous fancy " but to the " reasonable
inference that effects are due to causes." And Mr. J. Buchan in his
interesting work, " The First Things," quotes a series of answers
given to him by savages as to the ground of their religious belief. In
every case their belief was found to be based ultimately on what to
them was the obvious necessity for a first cause of all things.
8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
life,* this probably more than an3^ other consideration, not
only brings the ordinary mind to a knowledge of the Creator,
——-but brings men also into close touch with God as the supreme
ruler, as one who cares for and superintends the things of
this world, is kind and bountiful to His creatures, and desires
their happiness, (c) Again, though, as we saw in an earlier
chapter in this work,| the mere existence of a distinction
between good and evil and the recognition of this distinction
by conscience is not itself a proof of God's existence, yet the
conviction of reason that good action calls naturally for
reward, that evil action renders a man liable to punishment,
that somehow and somewhere the wrongs of this world will
have to be righted, that compensation is to be had for pain
and suffering unjustly borne, in general terms, that the world
is a reasonable world, which it would not be if the tyrant
and the robber and the murderer had not awaiting him some
retribution for his evil life, all this brings back the mind and
heart of man to the thought of a moral governor, of One
who will bring all things to a good end, who has pity for
suffering, and will defend the noble, the just, the pure, and
the truthful, and equalise the losses of virtue with gains a
hundredfold. It would, indeed, be difficult to put this
argument into a form that would completely satisfy the
logician and the sceptic, but it is an argument which makes
a powerful appeal both to the ordinary and the educated
' mind. Our reason revolts at the idea of wrongs for ever
unrighted. It is satisfied and tranquilhscd at the thought
of One who is empowered to bring to actual effect those
compensations without which the world and life would be
not only bitter but unbearable, (d) Finally, the heart of
man opens at the thought of One who will bring perfect
happiness to man J or who will supply the conditions under
which such happiness is attainable. Why this burning desire
for happiness arising out of the very nature of the human
heart, this longing which no finite thing can satisfy, if perfect
happiness is nowhere obtainable ? Witl^.out God man is
an unintelligible riddle ; through the thought of God the
• For instance, the fact that animals and men arc provided so
fully with the organs necessary for the reception, mastication and
digestion of food, evidently with a view to the maintenance of life.
t Vol. I., p. 472.
j This arKiinunt is quite distinct from that just given. The
present argument does not suppose the existence of injustice, tyranny,
and other evils. It is an argument that would hold even in a perfect
world
NATURAL RELIGION 9
whole world, and in particular the world of man, comes to
have a meaning, and becomes rational and intelligible.
In these several ways the thought of the ordinary man
and even of primitive man rises easily to the conception of
God, the creator and ruler of the universe. The arguments
we have quoted are not all that are available for the existence
of God. They are only the arguments that appeal to ordinary
uneducated minds. As they stand they are not even correct
but require to be modified in many ways in order to be
brought up to the standard of strict scientific proof. But
they are accurate in the main, and they make instant appeal
to the humble and uncritical mind not hindered in its natural
operation by vanity and prejudice.*
(2) Religious w^orship is the acknowledgment of man's
absolute dependence on God and of God's supreme
mastership and authority over man. This dependence
is grounded on the fact that God is the first cause of
all things, that all that we are and have are from Him,
and, therefore, this truth that God is the first eause
and creator of the world is another necessary presup-
position of all religion. For most minds, however, this
second presupposition is contained in or is itself a pre-
supposition of the first, since for most minds the argu-
ment based on the necessity of a first cause is itself the
clearest and most potent proof of God's existence.
(3) We honour and reverence that which is possessed
of excellence of any kind. Now worship is honour of
the highest and fullest kind. It is honour without
limitation and so it can only be paid to One who has in
Him the fullness of excellence. Religion, therefore, sup-
poses not merel}' the existence of God, but the existence
* It is in determining the attributes of the Deity that the primitive
mind should almost of necessity go astray. The Deity might present
itself as a living being but corporeal, or as a spirit with some material
attributes. It is impossible to think that the savage mind could
without revelation come to a perfect conception of the attributes of
the Supreme Being. But it is to be remembered that these errors
of the savage, even though important and far-reaching, do not
necessarily deprive his religion of all value as a mode of acknowledging
the Divine excellence and man's indebtedness to God— the first cause
and ruler of the world.
10 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of a God of infinite majesty and goodness. Nor is it
difficult even for the ordinar}^ mind to come by this
idea of the infinite excellence of God. For a Being who
is the first cause of all must have in Him all possible
excellences, since it is from Him that all excellences
proceed.
{4) Religious worship would not be paid to a being
who stood out of all relation to the universe, who had
no care for it, and no desire for worship and love. In
other words religion presupposes not merely the existence
of a supreme cause but also of a supreme moral governor
of the world, of One who not only has a right to expect
but actually does also expect reverence and homage
from men, who demands obedience to the laws of nature
which are His creation, and who will reward the ob-
servance of those laws and punish their violation. This
presupposition, however, is, like the second, for many
minds a part of or at the root of the first, since for many
minds it is an essential part of the proof of God's ex-
istence.*
* It will be found that all these presuppositions are present even
in the lowest forms of primitive religion. Naturally, the character
under which the Divinity is viewed in the different religions varies
with the form of the religion. The polytheistic religions, for instance,
acknowledge the excellence of various gods and man's dependence on
them — monotheism the excellence of the Supreme Being. Again, in
some the excellence most emphasised is that of power, in others
bountifulness, in others holiness. But in all we find recognised the
existence of a Divinity, His excellence, man's dependence on the
Divinity, and some sort of intimate relation of the Divinity with the
Universe. This is most easily seen by examining those definitions of
religion which have been formed by various writers in order to express
the characteristics common to all religions. Morris Jastrow (" The
Study of Religion," p. 171), for instance, explains these common
elements in all forms of religion as the recognising of a power or powers
superior to us and beyond our control, the feeling of dependence
on this iK)wcr, and entering into relations with it ; Ladd (" The
Philosophy of Kcligion," p. 89) mentions the following : a belief in
invisible superhuman powers, a feeling of dependence, a sense of
responsibility to tho.sc powers. J. G. Frazcr (" 'Jhe Golden Bough,"
I. 63) and 'lielc (" Klements of the Science of Religion," 11. 194^ give
the same conditions in other forms.
We think it rii( ht to explain that worship may still be true religious
worship even llioiigh it is the ]iower of God and not His goodness in
the sense of His bountifulness that is most emphasised. The power
of God is to be regarded as a Divine excellence just like His bountiful-
NATURAL RELIGION ii
THE NECESSITY AND GROUND OF RELIGION
That God exists and is known to exist, that He is
the first cause of the universe, that He is infinitely
perfect and is the supreme moral governor are, as we
have seen, necessary presuppositions of rehgion, in the
sense that no form of worship can be regarded as a
rehgion without them. But these truths are also the
grounds on which religion is based and the}^ demonstrate
its necessity. For, once it has been proved, as it is
proved in Natural Theology, on the ground of clear
established fact,* that God exists, is infinite, and is the
creator of the world, etc., it then becomes our clear duty
to acknowledge God, His power and goodness, and to
offer Him the special homage due to His position and
His greatness. Thus :
(a) God, being the first cause of the world, we depend
on Him for all that we are and have. As our creator
God possesses a full and special right of ownership over
man, stronger and clearer than any other ownership
known to the world. And being our owner He is our
supreme lord and master, and His supremacy must be
recognised and acknowledged by special acts of homage
not given to any other being. This special homage is
the homage rendered in religious worship.
(6) God is not only the first cause of the world but
He is a Being of infinite majesty and excellence. God's
majesty and excellence are not only greater and grander
than the excellence of any creature : they are different
in kind : they transcend all other excellences : they
ncss and His beauty. Writers, therefore, are not justified in claiming
that the religious rites of certain primitive races were not religious in
the proper sense because "it is strength rather than goodness that
primitive man admires, worships, fears" — {See A. H. Sayce, "The
Religions of Ancient Egypt and Babylonia.")
* Other than the existence of religion. You could not argue that
religion presupposes the existence of God, that, therefore, since religion
exists, God exists, and that consequently religion is necessary. The
argument would be a vicious circle. The facts alluded to in the text
are those facts enumerated in Natural Theology which form the
starting point of our proofs of God's existence. See S. Theol. Pars
Primli, II. 3. ••
12 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
are the cause and source of all. And, therefore, to God
we owe special acts of homage and reverence different
from those offered to any creature.
(c) God is not only the owner and founder of the
universe : He is its supreme ruler and governor. From
Him proceed all the laws, physical and moral, by which
are determined the being, the structures, the needs, and
requirements of all things, and also the courses, move-
ments, actions proper to their nature. Every natural
law, ph^'sical and moral, comes directly from God ;
human laws have all their authority ultimatel}' from
Him. If, therefore, special honour must be paid to kings
because of their special function and prerogative as
ruler, to God must be paid the highest and profoundest
homage of which the mind and heart of men are capable
— a homage reserved for Him alone, and befitting in so
far as anything in or from us can be said to befit His
greatness.
Objections.
(i) It is impossible that our acts should ever befit the
Divine Majesty. Anything that man can do in God's honour
falls short of what is due to God,
Reply. — The highest of human acts would indeed be
utterly unworthy of God were it not for the Divine con-
descension which recognises man's impotence to do more
than the things lying within the scope of his human faculties,
and at the same time is wiUing to accept his homage, not
for what it is in itself, but for what a true child of God would
wish it to be, i.e., something worthy of the Divine Majesty.*
The value of our acts, says St. Thomas, is to be computed
not from what they are in themselves but " secundum
quamdam considerationem humanae facultatis et divinac
acceptionis." f
(2) Since (iod is infinite He has in Himself all that is
noble and excellent and desirable, and, therefore, our worship
can add nothing to His greatness. The homage of the
• " Never anything can be amiss
When simplcness and duty tender it."
- (Midsummer Nij^lil's Dream).
t II II ', I XXXI. 5. ad. 3.
NATURAL RELIGION 13
creature would, therefore, seem to be useless and out of
place.
Reply. — [a) Our duty to God is measured not by what our
acts confer on God but by what we owe Him. And we owe
Him the fullest reverence and allegiance. The child gives
to its father in token of love many things that the father
does not require. The subject in token of allegiance presents
his sovereign with things that a sovereign possesses a hundred-
fold, {h) Even if no glory were conferred on God by our
actions, yet to worship and love God is to confer a perfection
on ourselves, (c) Though by our actions we add nothing to
the intrinsic greatness of the Supreme Being, yet our worship
does increase His external glory.
Two Erroneous Theories.
(i) The considerations put forward in the present section
to establish the necessity and assign the grounds of religion
serve to bring into clear relief a great and important truth,
viz. that religion is a special virtue, and that there exists
a particular and special duty of the religious worship of
God. Now, in a remarkable work, entitled, " Rehgion within
the Limits of Reason," * Kant makes himself responsible
for the theory that religion consists wholly and exclusively
in the leading of a good life, in preserving one's self free from
stain, in doing our ordinary duty for duty's sake. In other
words there is, according to this writer, no special virtue of
religion outside of and distinct from the other moral virtues,
and man is under no special obligation of worshipping the
Divinity. The same theory is commonly defended by
ordinary men, as a justification for their neglect of all religious
practices. To lead a good life, they say, is religion enough
for me. God cannot be displeased with me as long as I
observe the ordinary moral laws.
Now such an expression of opinion is not only false and
without foundation of any kind in reason, but is also a
grave insult to God and a denial of His sovereign rights.
Children should not only observe the commands of their
parents and refrain from offending them, but they should
render to their parents special love and reverence. A loyal
subject, particularly one who has access to his sovereign,
not only refrains from disobeying the king's commands,
but also renders him special homage, befitting the rank
and majesty of a sovereign ruler. To come into the presence
* part IV. cli. 6.
14 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of a monarch, and to decline to pay him any marks of special
reverence on the ground that observance of his laws is all
that a monarch may justly claim of his subject, would be a
grave insult, and a positive irreverence to the person of the
monarch and to his position. But Almighty God holds a
position raised far above that of any earthly monarch, and
His dignity and excellence transcend the excellence of
saints and angels and " thrones and dominations," And,
therefore, we owe Him special homage and reverence such
as no creature may claim or accept even if offered by us.
It is true that the acts of the other virtues such as temperance,
benevolence, purity of heart, fall under the control of religion
and if done out of a religious motive may be made into
religious acts {commanded acts of religion). But religion has
its own special acts {elicited acts) just like the other virtues,
and to decline to observe the special duties imposed by
religion is to decline to acknowledge God's special greatness
and His special claims upon His creatures. " God's do-
minion," writes St. Thomas,* " is of a proper and special
nature, for He has made all things, and is the supreme ruler
of all, and, therefore. He has a right to special worship."
(2) Another erroneous view may usefully be examined
here. We have seen that religion supposes and is based
upon our knowledge of God, upon the clear apprehension
that God exists, that He is a Being of transcendant excellence,
etc. Intellectual certitude and clear intellectual knowledge
of a real Divinity beyond us are the first presupposition and
the chief ground of all religious worship.
Now there are writers who have tried to show that religion
is based not on the clear knowledge of a hving God, but on
feeling, the feeling of some vague unreality felt as lying
outside of the known world, but suggested to our imagina-
tions by association with the thought of the known world.-f
This finite world, it is said, suggests to our imaginations
an infinite world or the inimitable ; time suggests the time-
less, space the spaceless. In this way we come to think of
something mysterious, unapproachable, awful, majestic ;
and it is this thought that elicits in us the act of religious
reverence and worship.
• S. Theol. II II« , Q. LXXXI., Art. i.
t The theory is taught in one form or another by various well-
known philosophers, e.g. Schleiermacher, Max Muller, Von Hartmann.
The various forms of the theory can be seen in such works as E. S.
Waterhcjuse's " Modern Theories of Religion," and Caldccott's
" Philosophy of Keligion."
NATURAL RELIGION 15
But how foreign all this is to the real character of religious
worship may easily be shown. Religious worship has in it
just those elements that are present in the thought of a
child about its father, of a loyal subject about his sovereign,
but magnified, enriched, transformed so as to befit and
express the special excellence and greatness of the Divine
Majesty. It includes love, honour, adoration, sorrow at
goodness offended, hope in the Divine greatness and con-
descension, desire for the fuller glory of God amongst men,
and everything else that comes of sonship, loyalty, and
devotion to One who is worthy of every honour. We could
not love a mere shadowy vacuity ; we could not honour an
abstraction, an unreality, however immense and undefined ;
we could not imagine a mere abstraction offended, or pleased,
or bountiful, or wise, or patient, or issuing commands, or
accepting and expecting honour or love from men, a)l cl
which belongs to the very essence of religious worshi[^. The
theory, therefore, that religion is based, not or the clear
intellectual knowledge of God, but on the feehng of the
unlimited, deprives religion of everything that the world
from the beginning has regarded as essential to its substance.
THE ACTS OF RELIGION
We have to distinguish between commanded and
elicited acts of religion. Religion may prompt us to,
or command, any virtuous act. It may urge us to love
our parents, to be patient, benevolent, temperate.
These are spoken of as commanded acts of religion.
But just as the virtues of temperance and benevolence
have their own special acts, so there are certain acts
proper to the virtue of religion also, acts to which we
are urged by this virtue alone. They are called elicited
acts of the virtue of religion. It is these elicited acts
that form the special object of the present discussion.
Again, acts of religion are either internal or external
according as they are acts of mind only, or involve the
use of the bodily faculties and organs also, like speech
and movement. Religion is primarily internal, an act
of the mind ; first, because it is mind that makes an
act human and purposeful, and, secondly, because it is.
i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
through the mind that we are capable of conceiving and
addressing the Divinity. But external acts are also
necessary. The external act is alwa3's secondary, that
is, it has a value only as connected with the internal
act. But it has its proper place in all religious worship,
and for the following reasons : —
I (i) External acts are the natural supplement of
internal thought and desire. It is quite natural for
man to express his inner thought and emotion by out-
ward signs. Men are not minds only : the}^ are made
up of soul and body, and even our most abstract thought
is naturally accompanied b}' external movement. If,
therefore, there is question of expressing one's self to
God it is right that all a man's expressive power both
of soul ind body should be utilised in the act. The
man whose heart is full of the love of God would compel,
if he could, not only his own tongue but the whole
earth also to recite God's praises.
(2) We belong to God not in soul onl}' but in our
bodies also ; and hence, in as much as our bodily
members can unite with mind in reciting God's praises,
they ought to be used to this end.
(3) External worship is necessary to internal. By
our bodily acts we not onl}' express but also concentrate
and intensify the inner act of mind. " Worship," says
Father Rickaby, " mostly of the silent sort, worship
that finds no expression in word or gesture — worship
away from pealing organs and chants of praise, or the
simpler music of the human voice, where no hands are
uplifted, nor tongue loosened, nor posture of reverence
assumed, becomes with most mortals a vague, aimless
reverie, a course of distraction, dreaminess, and vacancy
of mind, no more worth than the meditations of the
Lancashire stone-breaker who was asked what he thought
of during his work — ' Mostly nowt.' "
(4) Men arc by nature social. It is natural to them
to communicate their thoughts to one another in regard
to the things of common interest and also to unite in
NATURAL RELIGION 17
common action for the realisation of those interests.
The people come together to celebrate a victor}'. To-
gether they greet the heroes of the battle-field, cheer
for them, pay tribute to them. Together also they
throng to hail and honour their sovereign. Now God
is the common Father and Sovereign of men. It is,
therefore, natural that the}^ should worship Him to-
gether, that not only should their hearts be raised to Him
individuall3% but also that they should sing His praises
in chorus. And since it is through external acts that
men communicate with one another and act in concert,
so external acts are necessarj' for the fullness of religious
worship.*
In all this reasoning, however, it is supposed that the
external act is such as befits the holiness and sacredness
of religious worship. To be suitable for religious worship
it should fulfil three conditions. First, it should be
united to and inspired by inner reverence — external
sacrifice for instance without inner reverence is not only
not religious, it is an insult to God. Secondly, it should
be such an act as is, considering both the requirements
of nature and also human understandings and con-
ventions, capable of expressing the interior act to which
it is joined. Thirdly, there should be nothing disgraceful
or ludicrous in an outward act which is to form part of
the Divine service. All these conditions are expressed
by St. Thomas when he says that the reason why the
externals of idolatry provoked the just derision even of
a pagan like Seneca was because men used outward
actions in religious services, not as signs of, or as helps to,
inner reverence, but as things of value in themselves
even though divorced from inner worship, and also because
the external acts in which the}- sought to honour God
* It is sometimes objected that the external act taken by itself is a
mere material, mechanical movement— whereas worship should be
human and deliberate. The answer is that when the external act
is joined to, is controlled by and forms one whole action with the
internal, it is not mechanical but human and personal and free.
VOL. II — 2
i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
were empty and meaningless and often positively dis-
graceful.*
We now proceed to enumerate in a very general way
the acts which are included in latria or religious worship.
They are, as we have already shown, internal acts which
are principal, and external acts which are secondary
and subordinate.
The internal acts to which our relation to God naturally
prompts us are devotion, or the dedicating of one's mind
and heart to God, and prayer, by which we confess our
dependence on God and ask Him for what we need.
On the external side it is possible to express ourselves
to God in many ways. The first great central act of
religion is adoration, in which both mind and body bend
low before the greatness of God in acknowledgment of
the infinite majesty and our total dependence. Then
there are vocal prayer, beseeching God with tongue a&
well as heart for aid, the oaih, in which God's veracity
is invoked in confirmation of the truth of our words,,
thus testifying to God's supreme and unfailing truthful-
ness, the vow, by which something is promised in a most
sacred manner to God and, therefore, devoted to Hia
service.!
• II., 1I«., LXXXI. 7 ad 3.
t St. Thomas explains that to perform a virtuous action under
vow is better than to perform it without the obligation of a vow :
and for three reasons, first, because a virtuous act done under vow is
done from the highest virtue and the highest motive, i.e. religion,,
e.g. an act of temperance done under vow is not only an act of tem-
perance but an act of religion in its special and proper sense: secondly,
the man who not only performs a virtuous act but vows it, places
under subjection to God not only his act but his power to act, for by
his vow he surrenders up his power of acting otherwise ; he is, there-
fore, in the position of a man who gives to another not merely the
fruits of the tree but the tree itself, the power to act beijig the source
and root of each particular action : thirdly, it is more virtuous to
perform a good J\ct with a fixed and undeviating will than with a
vacillating will. Under the vow the determination of our wills is.
fixed and (inal, for by the vow we nut ourselves under the gravest of
obli(,;ations to do the good act. Weakne.sijes and temptations will
always arise to prevent the doing of good. The vow forestalls these
weaknesses, and secures the performance of some virtuous and noble
work. The vow is the burning of the boats behind one in the fight
for Clod's honour and for the victory of gpod oveE evil in our own lives^
NATURAL RELIGION 19
Now, just as many acts of homage paid to a king are
also used to reverence lesser dignitaries, so, of the external
acts just mentioned, some are used not only in our rela-
tions with God, but also in our dealings with other
persons, e.g. raising the hands, bowing the head. Even,
however, in the case of these acts it is always understood
that any signs of reverence shown by man to God are
always meant to signify more than the same things when
used in respect to men.
But there is one special external act used to typify
our attitude towards God which has always been re-
served for Divine worship alone, not only amongst
civilised but among uncivilised peoples also, and which
forms the most distinctive of all the external acts of
religion, viz. the act of sacrifice. " Sacrifice," says
Reinach, " is the crucial part of all cults, the essential
bond between man and the Deity." In a wide sense
sacrifice means any voluntary offering made to God,
but in its strict sense it means an act whereby some
material thing of value is offered to God and destroyed,
disrupted, or altered in some way, in token of God's
supreme ownership over it and over all things.* Now,
the act of sacrifice understood in this latter sense ex-
presses in a manner possible to no other act God's
supremacy over the whole world, and our complete
dependence on God. God has not only given form to
the world as men bestow a form on marble and bronze,
but He has created it out of nothing, and, therefore,
He possesses the fullest ownership over all things. By
offering to God some external object of value, in the way
described, we acknowledge God's supreme ownership in
the fullest way possible to man, since, in the first place,
we thereby cancel our own ownership over it ; secondly,
we render human ownership of it, so far as can be, im-
possible ; and, thirdly, the object sacrificed is offered to
God as His absolute property.
* Sacrifice is intimately connected with the act of adoration. It
is an effect and a sign of the heart's adoration.
20 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
THE VICES OPPOSED TO RELIGION
All vices are indirectly and remotely sins against
religion, for all sins dishonour God. But there are vices
and sins which offend against this virtue of religion in a
most special and formal way, in the same way that
intemperate acts violate the virtue of temperance, and
robbery violates justice. These vices may be divided
under two general headings — (i) superstition (2) irre-
ligion.
(i) Superstition.
Superstition is any wrong or perverted form of worship.
It has always in it the element of Divine worship, but
that element is either wrongly used or wrongly directed.
It includes two classes of acts : [a) the unworthy worship
of God, i.e. worshipping Him in a false or absurd manner,
for instance, singing profane songs or expecting things
from God which ought not to be expected ; [h) giving
to other beings the worship that belongs to God alone,
of which category of sin the three following are signal
examples : — spaying divine worship to another person or
thing, i.e. idolatry : foretelling future events by means
not naturally destined to make the future known, as
in cutting cards, in which act we either assume divine
powers to ourselves or attribute them to the means
used, i.e. the cards : magic {i.e. attempting, without
the help of God, to realise effects that lie completely
out of man's power and can be realised by God alone)
in which act again we give to some other being honour
and acknowledgment that are due only to God.
St. Thomas Aquinas takes a broad and very sensible
view of the moral character of certain of those practices
which are usually spoken of as superstitious. Many
strange effects, he tells us, may be produced by the invo-
cation of demons, and such practices are always and
obviously sinful in themselves no matter what the
circumstances. But sometimes, he explains, strange
NATURAL RELIGION 21
effects can be produced without the conscious invocation
of demons by the employment of what are apparently
quite natural agencies, e.g. cutting cards and the use
of certain herbs for curing. Are these practices lawful
or are they to be avoided as superstitious ? We shall
answer in St. Thomas' own words — " whenever agencies
are employed to produce particular effects some enquiry
should be made as to whether the agencies employed
are naturally capable of producing these effects. If
they are, there is nothing illicit in their use ; for there
is nothing wrong in utilising causes to produce their
proper (natural) effects. But if it should appear that
the effects produced are such that the agencies in question
could not naturally produce them, then it is evident
that these agencies (which we are using) are not really
the cause of the effects produced, and that some other
power (is producing these effects and) is using what is
apparently the agency as a mere outward sign (the real
agent and true causal agency being hidden from us).
Such effects are wrought in conjunction with some
demoniacal power," St. Thomas, however, immediately
raises the practical difficulty — how are we to know
whether the agency that we are using is not capable
naturally of producing the effects in question ? It is
exceedingly difficult, he explains, merely by examining
a natural object to determine what effects it is able to
produce. What, asks St. Thomas, could be more
mysterious and unexpected than the power of a magnet
to attract iron. Merely by examining the structure of
the magnet one could never be led to expect that it
possesses such a property. And, in the same way, may
it not be that the natural agencies employed in these
supposed questionable acts are really capable of producing
the mysterious effects referred to without the aid of
spirits ? Again St. Thomas answers in a broad and
sensible way : if it seems to your reason, he writes,
that the effects in question could be produced by the
agency in question, i.e. the agency which you yourself
22 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
are using, if the disproportion between the two is not
perfectly manifest, then there is nothing illicit in using
the agency in question. But if it is manifest to human
reason that there is no proportion, that the agency in
question could not possibly produce the effect in question,
e.g. attempting to foretell the future by looking at
certain figures, thpn your act is certainly superstitious
and illicit. St. Thomas in this answer simply assumes
that men are possessed of some judgment, of some
sense of proportion, that with the aid of common sense
and science we should be able to determine that some
properties do not belong to certain bodies. Obviously,
however, he allows for a large margin of speculation in
which certainty is not attainable, in which properties
which we regard as not natural may still be real and
natural, and may one day become established scientific
facts ; and within that sphere he is content merely to
warn us that all is not certain, and that until certainty
becomes possible there is danger.
(2) Irreligion.
In superstition there is always, as we said, some
element of Divine worship, but spoiled in some way or
wrongly directed. Irreligion is marked by the privation
of worship where worship should have a place. It
consists in positive irreverence towards the Divinity, or
in the doing of acts which are contrary to worship. Any
irreligious treatment of God, e.g. contempt of God,
daring Him, blaspheming, i.e. wishing evil to God,
comes under the head of irreligion ; also irreverence
towards things dedicated to God, which irreverence
may take the form of sacrilege or simony.
All the foregoing acts contained under the two cate-
gories of superstition and irreligion are directly and
formally opposed to the virtue of religion, the object
of which is to give due honour to God.
NATURAL RELIGION 23
ON man's duty of loving god
Religion, as we saw, in its strict sense means the
worship of God as defined by justice. In a broad sense
it includes also our duties to God, as defined by charity,
i.e. our duty to love God our final perfection and end.
Before bringing this chapter to a close we wish to say
a few words on this duty of loving God. We will sketch
briefly the grounds and nature of this obligation in so
far as they are defined by natural law, and in so far as
they depend on the essential relations of Creator and
creature, making abstraction of special benefits con-
ferred in particular cases which give rise to special
duties of gratitude and affection.
We must recall to the reader's memory the division *
of love into love of desire (amor concupiscentiae) and
love of benevolence or friendship (amor amicitiae) because
we are bound to love God with both kinds of love ;
but the nature of these two as well as the principles in
which they issue are very different.
We may be permitted to quote the following passage
from St. Thomas Aquinas j : —
" As the philosopher says, ' to love is to wish good to
another ' ; so, therefore, the movement of love tends to two
objects, to the good which one wishes for a person, either one's
self or another ; and to the person for whom one wishes the
good. Towards the good then which one wishes for somt
one the love of desire is entertained : but towards the person
for whom one wishes that good there is entertained the
love of friendship.
" What is loved with the love of friendship is loved abso-
lutely and by itself ; but what is loved with a love of desire
is not loved absolutely and by itself but is loved for another.
" The love wherewith an object is loved that good may
accrue to it is loved absolutely, but the love wherewith a
thing is loved that it may be the good of another is love in a
restricted sense."
* Vol. I. p. 319.
t S. Theol., I. II. Q.XXV., Art. 4— translated by Father Rickaby,
S.J.
24 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
From this it is clear that there are two ways in which
we can love God. We can love God as good to ourselves,
as an end to be enjoyed b}^ us, as a good for us. In
that case we love God as means to ourselves only. It
is the love of desire. Or we can love or wish good to
God for His own sake. That is the love of friendship.
The first is a very imperfect form of love in comparison
with the second. But man has a duty, not in revealed
religion only but also in natural law, of loving God with
both kinds of love.
I. God ought to be loved for our own sake.
There is a natural obligation to love God with the
love of desire, of loving Him as our greatest good, as
affording us happiness, as perfecting us fully, and in this
respect He is to be loved more than any other object.
This is clear from the fact that God is man's final natural
end. As we saw, only the Infinite good can fill up man's
capacity for desire, and, therefore, God is the final end
of human life. It follows from this that He ought to
be loved above all other ends because all other ends
ought to be subordinated to our last end.
\\'e may add, too, that as "in the arts * there is no
limit to the pursuit of their several ends, for they aim at
accomplishing their ends to the uttermost," so man
ought to aim at this, his last end, with an energy limited
by his psychological capacity only. Man ought, then,
to love God as his last end more than he loves any other
object and with all his strength.
II. God ought to be loved for His own sake and not
merely for the sake of man.
That God should be loved for His own sake and not
merely for the sake of another, even of ourselves, is
evident from an enumeration of the ways in which it
is possible to love a thing for the sake of another.
• Aristotle, Politics, I. 9.
NATURAL RELIGION 25
We may love anything for the sake of another in four
ways according to each of the four causes.* " By way
of final cause, as we love medicine for the sake of health ;
by way of formal cause, as we love a man for the sake
of his virtue . . . : by way of efficient cause as we love
certain persons because they are the children of such a
father : by way of disposition or material cause as we
love a thing by virtue of something disposing us to
love it, for example, love on account of benefits received,
though once we have begun to love we do not love our
friend on account of those benefits but on account of
his virtue.
Now in the first three ways God is not to be loved
for anything else but for His own sake. For, He is
not ordained to another as to an end, being the last
end of all : nor is He good by means of anything else,
His substance being His goodness : nor is goodness in
Him derived from any other, but from Him to all others.
In the fourth way God can be loved by reason of some-
thing else, i.e. the benefits we have received from Him,
etc.," but these things should lead us on to love Him
for Himself.
It is clear then from these arguments which show
forth the great distinctive perfection of God, that God
is worthy of love for His own sake and not merely for
the sake of another, and that we do not carry out our
duty of loving God if we do not give Him a personal
love of friendship for His own sake. Man ought also
manifestly to love God with a higher love of friendship
than he bears to any other friend, since God infinitely
transcends every possible friend in every lovable quality.
But all this will be made clearer and more compelhng
by our reasoning in the next section.
III. Man ought to love God more than he loves himself.
It was shown in the last paragraph that man owes
♦ S. Theol., II. II. Q. XXXVII., Art. 3
26 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
God a love of friendship greater than he gives to any
other person. But in the present thesis we go beyond
this, and declare that a man must love God not only
above all other persons but above oneself. We here
reach the critical point in our discussion. It would
seem to be psychologically impossible to love God above
oneself, for love, as we have already fully shown,* is
based on the union of the thing loved with the person
loving, and a man is more one with himself than he is
with God who is wholly distinct from man. We saw
that friendship proper is not entertained towards one-
self, but something greater than friendship, because
friendship imports union, whereas the relation of a
man to himself is unity which goes beyond union with
another. Also, as unity is the principle of union, so
the love wherewith one loves oneself is the principle and
root of friendship ; for our friendship for others con-
sists in wishing good to them as we wish it to ourselves,
but in a lesser degree, in proportion as they are removed
by differences from unity with oneself. All this was
shown in our general dissertation on the ground of friend-
ship. What would seem to follow is that one may love
friends, and God most of all ; but, as the}^ all fall short
of that unity with one which each has to himself, the
love for them, which is based on union with another,
and which starts from it, must necessarily be less than
the love of each for himself. The highest expression
of such love would be dimidium animac, other persons
being always the lesser half of ourselves. And in this
respect it is no use to say that God is the infinite good
and, so, more loveworthy than oneself. This is quite
true, but it ignores the principle on which human love
is based, viz. love of self, and of others in so far as they
are one with this self. We may call this principle a
limitation, an impotence of our will ; but it is part of
our nature and governs all our acts. Men are not ex-
pected to love men who are better than themselves
• See Vol. I. p. .319.
NATURAL RELIGION 27
more than they love themselves, and so it might not be
surprising if it turned out that man's nature was so
constituted that he had to love himself more than God
whom he nevertheless confessed to be infinitely above
him. He might even find a motive for humility in such
natural baseness. Indeed, there were writers in the
Middle Ages alluded to by St. Thomas * who were so
impressed by this difficulty that thej' frankly declared
that the love of God above oneself was wholly impossible.
We now go on to treat of this difficulty, and we shall
draw our chief proof of the duty of loving God above
all, even above oneself, from the consideration and
solution of it.
The love of friendship is based on union with the lover.
Our fellow-men have a certain union with us in race
and nature, and we love them for this : but they fall
away in many ways from unity with us. For in us there
are many things that are not in them, and by which we
are divided from them ; and, therefore, since what we
love in ourselves is only partially existent in our fellows,
we love them only partially or in a lesser degree than
we love ourselves. What we love in ourselves is not
in them : but if it were we should love them as much
as we love ourselves. We should, of course, still be
distinct from them numcro and in substance, but our
perfections and theirs would be the same specie : and,
therefore, our reason fixing upon this identity would
at once make it psychologically possible to love them
as much as ourselves, and would impose this love upon
us as a natural duty.
Now God is distinct from us numcro and in substance,
but the perfections that are in us are in Him also, and,
therefore, it is possible to love Him with the love of
friendship. But God has all that is in us and more,
all that we love in ourselves but in a higher degree, and,
therefore, following out the principle of love already put
forward, we ought to love God as much as ourselves
♦" S. Theol." 1. Q. LX., Art. 5.
28 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and more.* Indeed, since every good that is in us is
also in Him, and sublimated and raised to infinite ex-
cellence, there is no limit to the greatness of the love
which a man who really loved himself will give to God.
A friend is an alter ego, but lesser : God is an alter ego,
but greater, and, therefore, lovable above the ego. This
reason at once dissolves the difficulty and shows that
though we ought to love ourselves above all creatures
we should love God above ourselves.
Our relation to God as an object of love may also be
viewed in another way which confirms the conclusion
now reached. God not only has in Him all the good
possessed by us, but His excellence is the cause of all
the good that is in us. Nov/, when what we love de-
pends wholly and absolutely on any cause, we love that
cause principally, because the loss of the cause would
be to us a worse and more radical evil than the mere
loss of the loved effect. Therefore, a man ought to love
God more than he loves himself.
Again, God is the essential and infinite goodness, of
which every other particle of existing goodness is a
participation. Each one's self is such a particle. And
if such a small part of what is found in God fires us with
love, a fortiori, we ought naturally to be carried away
with affection for God, the essential and infinite good.
Finally, God being the infinite good and the end of
man, we are related to Him as part to whole. Now
every part, as a part, naturally loves the common good
more than its own particular good, in the sense that it
refers and ordains its own good to that of the whole.
The hand, as St. Thomas says, will automatically expose
itself to a blow in order to save the whole body. This
implies that our own good and welfare should be sub-
jected and referred to God, that the personal love of
• We should, therefore, not only love God as our end, the attain-
ment of whom will jjive us complete happiness, which is the love cf
desire only, but we sliould direct all our happiness, even the final happi-
ness of attaininf; God, to the Divine ^lory.
NATURAL RELIGION 29
God is the final act to which all other love, even that
of ourselves, ought to be ordained.
IV. The love of God is the highest and best of moral
ads*
In the first place this act is better than any act of
intellect for it is an act of the will engaged on the highest
and noblest of objects. The intellect is a higher facult}'
than the will : but certain acts of will are higher than
corresponding acts of intellect. As the intellect acts
by taking objects into itself, the nobility of the operation
depends on the intellect. But the will acts by tending
to its object and, therefore, the nobility- of the operation
is measured by the object. Now, in the case of objects
inferior to the soul, acts of intellect are higher than those
of will, since these objects are elevated by being taken
into the soul : but for a similar reason in respect of
objects that are superior to the soul the act of the will
is better. f Therefore an act of will loving God is better
than any intellectual act. It is also better than any
other will-act, for its object is the highest and most
noble of all.
And not only is the love of God for His own sake
better than all other acts, but it is the most unselfish of
all. Bishop Butler spoke of even the love of God as
selfish — a long-sighted selfishness. In a sense this would
be true of a love of God that mainly centred in the
happiness which the attaining of God would afford the
creature. But it is not true of the love of God for His
own sake, which is man's highest act, the crown and
perfection of all his best work. Kant also considered
that the love of God was selfish, that all love was selfish.
The only purely unselfish act of which man is capable,
• This question does not concern the problem whether the a/tain-
nient of the ultimate end is an act of intellect or of will. The present
question is — which is our highest moral act ?
t " S. Theol." II. II., Q. XXIII. Art. 6, ad. i.
30 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
he maintained, and, therefore, the only truly moral act
is the doing of one's duty out of respect for duty. And
that such an act is most unselfish no one will den3^ It
is not, however, more unselfish than the love of God for
His own sake alone. But in point of nobility and per-
fection who would compare them ? The one act con-
cerns a pure abstraction, a principle, a skeleton of
reality : the other concerns the living God, in whom is
every perfection, in whom every abstraction has its
living source, every principle its living ground, and in
whom is the fullness of all being, of all reality.
The love of God being the highest moral act of man,
it follows that all other virtues without this love of
God must be imperfect ; for all virtues presuppose a
will fixed and set in the true end of man, and being our
highest object He is also our true end. On the other
hand, where charity is present all other virtues acquire
a merit and a value above that which is proper to them-
selves, since acts that are ordained to a higher end than
that which is proper to them acquire a new excellence
from this end.
Again, charity being our highest moral act, our moral
perfection lies principally in this act of the love of God.
But not in it alone. The love of God does not super-
sede other human interests : it simply rules them to a
higher end, raises them to a higher level. But whereas
the love of God is capable of infinite growth, our other
affections are limited in their capacity for expansion,
it being a rule, as Aristotle says, of all arts and sciences
in so far as they are practical, that, whereas the use of
the means is limited, the end may always be sought to
the uttermost. And so, though human interests are
not excluded by, on the contrary, though they may
advance along with charity, the wings of charity soon
leave them far behind, so that in one who is fired with
the love of God, other love, though present, will, in
NATURAL RELIGION 31
comparison with charity, become steadily weaker. In
one that loves God above all things all other affections,
must gradually lose in power and prominence, taking;
up less and less of the soul's interest and attention.
APPENDIX
The Primitive Races and Natural Religion
It will be well before closing the present chapter to consider
briefly two questions of great historical importance in con-
nection with the subject of natural religion. One is whether
a pre-religious period ever obtained in the life of the human
race — a period when man had not yet begun to think of
God or of anything beyond this world, not a brief period
such as on any theory of the origin of religion would be
required whilst the problems of religion were taking shape
and the human mind was preparing itself for their solution,
but a lengthened period such as is in general required for large
evolutionary changes — the hypothesis of a pre-rehgious
period being altogether a part of the evolutionist theory
as applied to rehgion. The second question is whether there
is any soHd foundation for those many theories which ex-
plain religion as nothing more than an extension of, a
development from nature-worship, magic, animism, fetishism,
or some other production of the untutored imagination of
the savage races. Having examined two of these theories,
we shall th^^n briefly consider the evolutionist view, which
represents monotheism as the last stage in the ascending
series of the consecutive religious positions occupied by
the race of man in its growth upwards from savagery to
civilisation.
Before, however, considering these questions we think it
well to remark that whatever may be the answer to them,
whether primitive man possessed or did not possess a religion,
whether his religion sprang or did not spring out of nature-
worship, and whether fetishism and polytheism did or did
not precede monotheism in time, these things in no way
affect the question of the validity of monotheism taken in
itself, and in no way lessen the claims of rehgion on the minds.
32 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of civilised men to-day. In science we do not allow the
errors of one period to militate against the general body of
scientific truth accepted in the next. So also the true re-
ligion must still be regarded as having a claim on our ac-
ceptance, whatever may have been the errors of primitive
man.
I. — The Alleged Pre-Religious Period
It is now a good many years since the first appearance
of Lord Avebury's remarkable work on the " Origin of
Civilisation," wherein, with great show of scholarship, that
writer expounded and developed his celebrated theory of a
pre-religious period in human development — a view which
was based almost wholly on the supposition that to-day
many savage races are without religion, and that the nearer
we get down to the primitive stock the more numerous be-
come the cases of religionless peoples. Since, he argues, these
present-day lower savage races are all instances of arrested
development it must needs follow that at least their mental
condition is similar in all essential respects to the mental
condition of their remote ancestors, and therefore, inasmuch
as these present-day representatives of the early races are
without religion, the primitive stock must also have been
without rehgion. To-day, it is contended, whole races or
tribes are in the pre-religious period. Originally this pre-
rehgious condition was the condition not of certain peoples
only but of the whole human race.
Criticism.
(i) Lord Avebury's theory, although it still has its ad-
herents, may nevertheless be regarded as steadily losing
ground in recent years amongst enquirers of almost every
school of thought. The facts of history to which Lord Ave-
bury made appeal, and which have been more closely
scrutinised in recent times than was possible when Lord
Avebury first adopted his theory, will not bear the inter-
pretation then put upon them.
" There is not the same necessity now," writes Prof.
Ladd,* " as that wliich formerly existed for defending
the historical truthfulness of this assumption " (viz. that
as far back as investigation has been able to bring us there
is no trace of a people without religion.)
* " Philosophy of Religion," I. 120.
NATURAL RELIGION 33
And again, "it is scarcely too much to say that at
present all the witnesses on whom Lubbock relied have
been shown to have been misled, either by haste, incom-
petence, or prejudice." *
" Religion," writes De la Saussaye,f " is the specific
and common property of all mankind."
" We find," writes Andrew Lang, J " no race whose mind
as to faith is a tabula rasa."
" All savages," writes C. H. Brown, § " and half-civilised
peoples are intensely religious "
" Hitherto," writes Gustav Roskoff,|| " no primitive
people has been discovered devoid of all trace of religion."
" Whether," says Max Miiller,^ " we descend to the
lowest roots of our intellectual growth or ascend to the
loftiest heights of modern speculation, everywhere we find
religion as a power that conquers, and conquers even those
who think that they have conquered it."
These testimonies, taken at random from the works of
modern writers of high authority, are evidence at least of
this, that, even though an isolated people, here and there,
may have lost its rehgion, no large part of the savage world
is without a religion in the sense of nev-er having had any ;
and since on the hypothesis of our opponents the savage
* In addition to these three sources of error others also should be
mentioned, e.g. (a) the fact that the true reUgious beliefs of the savage
races are rarely revealed to any others than the initiated of their own
tribe. Savage beliefs, writes H. C. Brown {" Bases of Religion," p. 7)
contain many " esoteric doctrines designed for the initiated alone . . .
who are sworn to secrecy. Outside this kernel an exoteric form for
the benefit of the uninitiated is usually put forth that shadows in
gross, ambiguous, and misleading terms these inner truths." [b) Even
Tylor is constrained to recognise that many investigators seem hardly
to have been willing to accept anything short of the established theology
as in any sense a religion, (c) Many writers, like Lord Avebury, while
acknowledging the existence of the externals of religion still deny to
the rites of certain savage peoples the character of a true religion
because of the apparent want of a true religious inner motive, magical
incantation (a non-religious motive) often, we are informed, taking
the place of propitiation or petition which are the proper acts of
religion. We can only say that it is exceedingly difficult to discern
the inner motives of races so different from ourselves in their whole
mentality. Certainly the difference betwfeen incantation and petition
is not always clearly discernible.
t " Manual of the Science of Religion," p. 14.
X " The Making of Religion."
§ " The Bases of Religion, " p. 2.
11 " Das Religionswesen der Rohesten Naturvolker," p. 178.
^ " Lectures on the Origin of Religion," p. 5.
VOL. II — 3
34 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
races are instances of arrested development and are now in
the same position approximately as their prehistoric ancestors,
these testimonies are proof also that it is not lawful lightly to
assume that the primitive races passed necessarily through a
long period of unreligion before the concept of God arose in
their minds.
(2) We believe, however, that, essential as it is to produce
testimonies of the kind just given lest the opinions of men
like Lord Avebury might be regarded as incontestable or at
least as unquestioned, what is much more important is that
the reader should be given instances of races which were once
almost universally regarded as without religion, and which,
as the methods of investigation improved, were found to be
possessed, behind all the paraphernalia of their very material
and often grotesque ritual, of a rehgion that was not only to
some extent spiritual and elevated, but often even mono-
theistic. We shall here consider a few such instances.
(a) THE NORTH CENTRAL AUSTRALIANS
Until quite recently this race was deemed universally,
mainly on the strength of the testimony of Messrs. Spencer
and Gillen,* to be not only wholly without rehgion but to
be still actually in the pre-rcligious stage — the stage which
precedes the appearance of religion. Now it is exceedingly
doubtful whether these people have not at present a re-
ligion as genuine and good as that of other Australian
races. But, whether they have or not, it is now becoming
increasingly certain that at one time they were possessed
not only of a religion but of a rehgion which was genuinely
monotheistic. The parts of our proof for this proposition
may first be given separately and then presented as one
complete argument. First, on the admission of Messrs.
Spencer and Gillen themselves, there is one exception to
their statement that the North Central tribes are without
religion, viz. the Kaitish tribe. Not only is this people
possessed of a religion but their religion is monotheistic.
They worship a Supreme Being under tlie name Atnatu.f
Secondly, many other North Central tribes teach the boys
undergoing tlic initiation ceremonies that the All-Father
of whom tlicy have been hearing from their parents is a
mythical personage invented for the amusement and
• In their work on the " Northern Tribes of Central Australia."
f Spencer and Gillen explain that Atnatu is not regarded as a
moral ruler in the sense of rewarding good and jninishing evil. Thi»
may or may not be true : but Atnatu is at least the Supreme Being.
NATURAL RELIGION 35
comfort of women and children. There is still, therefore,
amongst these particular tribes a monotheistic religion
which is handed down, even now, from parent to child,
but which for some reason or other * is now being ousted
from the peoples' hearts and understandings. Thirdly,
according to Mr. Howitt,f the South Eastern tribes, which
formerly were united with the North Central, and which,
as Mr. Lang \ has shown, are more primitive than the
latter tribe, still retain their monotheistic religion, ac-
knowledging a Supreme Being under various names and
images.
The argument, therefore, afforded in the present case
by the study of Comparative Religion is as follows : there
is still amongst the North Central tribes of Australia one
undoubtedly monotheistic tribe ; others are plainly en-
deavouring to discourage the traditional monotheism which,
however, is still being handed down from mother to child
in spite of the tribal prohibition ; and the more primitive
South Eastern tribes, which once were one with the North
Central, still preserve their monotheistic beliefs. The only
conclusion possible would seem to be that if the North
Central Australians are now without religion (a supposition
which is not at all to be regarded as certain) this defect
is to be attributed not to their being in the pre-religious
stage, as our opponents suppose, but to the fact that they
* The conception of God has probably suffered much and become
itself unacceptable to the men of these tribes on account of the absurd
myths and legends that have gathered round it. The savage mind is
most prolific in the creation of myths and legends.
t " The Native Tribes of S.E. Australia," p. 507. Mr. Howitt
endeavours to show that in spite of their belief in a Supreme Being,
these people are not really religious on account of the human way in
which the Supreme Being is conceived by them. He is supposed
to have the shape, the passions, the weaknesses of men. Now such
a form of argument is quite unsound for (i) it is natural for savages
to imagine their God in human shape as we have already seen, p. 9.
(2) These anthropomorphic representations belong as a rule to the
mythical side only of these ancient religions. They are not part of
the real doctrine of their religion. We admit, however, that it is
often not easy to distinguish doctrine from myth. (3) Howitt
himself admits that many S.E. tribes regard their Supreme Being as
invisible and as producing all things, which is very far removed from
anthropomorphism. (4) Howitt makes the naive confession that under
favourable conditions their present beliefs might have developed into
a genuine religion. It is hard to see how such an assertion could be
so confidently made unless the beliefs and practices of these peoples
had already in them some element of religion.
X " The Primitive and the Advanced in Totemism." Journal of
Anthrop. Inst., 1905.
36 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
have lost an inheritance which once was theirs, viz. their
beUef in an All-Father — the title by which the Supreme
Being is most familiarly known amongst these simple
peoples. " Since," writes Mr. Jevons, " the appearance
of Mr. Howitt's work the evidence that the ideas of the
Northern tribes are the result of degradation, and are a
degradation from the South Eastern tribes' belief in an
All-Father, has been decisive on the point."
(b) SOME AFRICAN TRIBES
Mr. Herbert Spencer and Lord Avebury describe many
of the African races as without religion. The Hottentots,
for instance. Lord Avebury assures us, show no sign of
rehgious worship and particularly no sign of the worship
of a Supreme Being, his chief argument being that in the
public life of the people such worship finds no place.*
Now we can only express surprise that Lord Avebury
would, with the results of recent investigations before him,
make himself responsible for the assertion that where the
worship of the Supreme Being forms no part of the public
rehgion of a people. His existence is not acknowedged by
them nor His rights recognised. No part of the life and
customs of the savage races has been more clearly estab-
hshed than the ui\willingness evinced by some of these
peoples to attempt to propitiate by worship a Being whom
they regard as supremely good and just, and whose
rulings, therefore, they look on as so perfect as not to be
in need of change, particularly at the instance of mere
human beings. The lower deities, on the contrary, the
attendant spirits, they will freely propitiate.
But Lord Avcbury's opinion as to the rcligionless con-
dition of the African tribes has been disproved utterly by
the experience of those who have lived amongst and,
therefore, were in a position to understand these African
races. Mgr. Le Roy who lived amongst the Bantu peoples
of Mid-Africa for twenty years, and who was admitted by
some of them to witness many of their most sacred rites,
thus describes the religion of these peoples : f " We have
seen that the Hottentots have neither temples nor figures.
But frequently we find amongst them as well as among the
' San ' certain consecrated places which they never pass
without leaving some small offering, accompanying their
• " Marriage Totemism and Religion," p. 197:
t " La Religion dcs Primitifs," p. 318.
NATURAL RELIGION 37
act with an invocation. ... In all the encampments of
the A-Koa and Beku. ... I have found a behef in God
set forth in clear and living light." He then goes on to
describe a conversation with one of this poor tribe who
explained to him, in a manner that would not be unworthy
of a Christian believer, the tribal behef in the Supreme
God the ruler of the world, one who will bring the good to
rest and condemn the wicked to torments.
And Le Roy's testimony is borne out by innumerable
others. " There is no need," wrote Livingstone, " of
beginning to tell the most degraded people of the South of
the existence of God or of a future life, both these facts
being universally admitted." Dr. Hahn, too, in his most
interesting work on the Hottentot tribes,* attests to the
belief of these people in a Supreme Being, the cause and
ruler of the world. A recent testimony is that of J. H.
West Sheane, F.R.G.S. (native commissioner).! " As with
the Bantu J faiths," he writes, " so with the Avemba
religion, they acknowledge a Supreme Being, Leza, who is
above the tutelary spirits of the land. . . . He is the
judge of the dead, and condemns thieves, adulterers and
murderers . . . there is no special worship of Leza, for
he is to be approached only by appeasing the inferior
spirits who act as intercessors. But, in blessing, the
parent beseeches Leza to protect his child," etc.
(c) THE " GODLESS " ANDAMAN ISLANDERS AND OTHER
PYGMY RACES
For long the Andamanese were regarded as an indis-
putable instance of a people without religion. They are
in many ways like beasts, wrote Lubbock, with no idea of
higher beings, and no religion. Yet when the Andaman
Islanders came to be studied in situ, as A. Lang remarks,
by an educated Englishman, Mr. Man, who knew their
language and lived with them for eleven years, they were
found to be possessed not only of religion but of a high
form of monotheism. Their Supreme Being (Puluga),
though imaged in material colours, and surrounded by
myth such as the savage imagination cannot fail to weave
around all invisible or transcendent things, is nevertheless
* " Tsuni-||Goam the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi," i.e. of
the Hottentots.
t In Journal of Anthrop. Inst., 1906.
j These Bantu peoples extend across the South Mid-Continent of
Africa from one coast to the other.
38 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
clearly and forcibly and logically conceived. Though like
fire, yet, He is "invisible," was " never born," is "immortal";
by Him all things were " created," except the powers of
evil : He " knows the thoughts of the heart," is " angered
by sin," is " pitiful to those in distress," is the " judge of
souls. ..." *
Much light has of late been thrown upon the present
discussion by the comparative study of the Andamanese
beMefs with those of the other peoples which, together
with the Andamanese, make up the interesting group known
as the Pygmy races. The Pygmy races, if not, as many
authorities insist, the oldest, are certainly amongst the
oldest and most primitive of the races now existing.
Putting aside some doubtful peoples, and certain other
peoples of mixed blood, we find included in the Pygmy
group five principal races f — the Central African Pygmies,
the Bushmen, the Aeta of the Phillippines, the Andamanese,
and the Semang tribe of the Malay Peninsula. Though
now so widely scattered over the earth, it is believed by
scientists that all these races were originally one. What
is of interest for our present discussion is that they are
all monotheistic in religion. J In spite of the develop-
ment of absurd myth and the anthropomorphisms that
accompany it, these poor peoples hold fast by their belief
in the Supreme God. Strange to relate, also, they all, in
one form or another, practise what is probably the oldest
of all species of sacrifice, that, viz. of the first fruits.
Probably the most interesting of all these races is the
Semang of the Malay Peninsula, the most remote and
primitive of men, the least affected by the presence near
them of other peoples and beliefs. They believe in one
Supreme God, who existed before the creation, who is
• Mr. Man's exposure of an ancient and perhaps not creditably
maintained tradition in regard to this poor people did not, as might
be expected, escape the censure of his opponi'iits. His article (in
Journal of Anthrop. Inst., 1882-3) was criticised in " Folk-Lore,"
September, 1909, by Mr. A. R. Brown with much vehemence ; and
the controversy that followed between Mr. Brown on the one side,
and Schmidt and Lang on the other, in the pages of " Man " (1910)
is of great interest. Mr. Brown's arguments are not only fully met,
but .shown to confirm Mr. Man's views in an able work by P. W.
Schmidt — " Die Stellung der PygmJienvolker in dcr Entwicklungsge-
schichte des Menschen," p. 203 and foil.
f V. W. Sclimidt, «/>. cit., p. 192 and foil.
j Even, therefore, if any doubt remained about the Andamanese
religion, it would be removed by the connection of these with the
other Pygmy peoples.
NATURAL RELIGION 39
the judge of souls and the master of life and death. Scarcely
a trace of animism or ancestor-worship is found here, nor
any other corrupting or degenerate influence, with the
exception of some magic. Their monotheism is practically
pure and unspoiled, those other lower elements which are
to be found even amongst the less primitive peoples of
the same land,* being practically unknown. It is difficult
to see how the Andamanese can be now regarded as a test
case for the theory of godless primitive races.
{d) THE MAORIS
We wish to close this list of instances, which could be
multiplied many times, by reference to the Maori people.
■" Many writers," says Mr. Elsdon Best.f " have touched
on the theme of the Maori religion, and almost all such
writers have remarked that the gods of the Maori were
truly malevolent beings, beings to be feared and placated,
to whom no true invocations were recited, but merely
crude charms or incantations. Also that the Maori had
no conception of a Supreme Being, creative or otherwise. . .
It is now many years since we first gained a dim knowledge
that the Maori believed in tke existence of a Supreme
Being. . . . Since that time we have obtained more
light. . . . The information so gained, we now ofter . . .
as evidence that an ' inferior ' race, a * savage ' people
was quite capable of evolving the concept of a Supreme
Being, a creative and eternal God." In the course of his
article this interesting writer makes reference to the Maori
custom of conceahng the full significance of the tribal
religion from all but the initiated. In fact only the higher
priesthood was allowed to invoke God's name. No image
of God was ever fashioned ; no offerings were made to
Him. Nevertheless all acknowledged the " Great," the
eternal, permanent, unchangeable cause of all things,
from Whom all life emanated, and Who, though Himself
supremely just and good, yet refrains, this people main-
tains, from inflicting punishment on the unjust and bad.
The foregoing cases will serve to show how, gradually,
Lord Avebury's theory is being disproved by facts, how each
* See later p. 45. Also Le Roy, op. cit., pp. 274 and 275.
t " Maori Religion : The Cult of lo, the Concept of a Supreme
Deity as evolved by the ancestors of the Polynesieins." Man. July,
1913-
40 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
year the veils are being drawn aside, and revealing behind
the often gruesome ritual of savage fetishism, ancestor-
worship and incantation, a background of genuine religious
feeling and behef.
II. — Two Erroneous Theories on the Origin of
Religion
ANIMISM
This theory is usually connected with the name of Ed. B.
Tylor, and is described in his well-known work on Primitive
Culture. A briefer though more thorough-going account of
it is given in Spencer's work, the " Principles of Sociology."*
The following is a brief sketch of the theory as developed
by Spencer : —
" Changes in the sky and on the earth occurring hourly,
daily, and at shorter or longer intervals, go on in ways
about which the savage knows nothing — unexpected
appearances and disappearances, transmutations, meta-
morphoses. While seenjing to show that arbitrariness
characterises all actions, these foster the notion of a
duality in the things which become visible and vanish,
or which transform themselves : and this notion is con-
firmed by experiences of shadows, reflections, and echoes."
There must, the savage thinks, be more than one object
present under each of these single appearances. The
experience of dreams confirms this suggestion. To the
primitive man dreams appear real. The savage did the
actions, saw the places, carried on the conversation dreamt
of. Hence there must be in him a double which goes
abroad during sleep and returns again at waking. When
people die the savage mind considers that the second self
has merely gone away. It will come back again, and its
• " Principles of Sociology," Vol. I. Herbert Spencer's theory is
sometimes six^kcn of as the " ghost theory " of the origin of religion.
But it differs in no essential from the animistic hypothesis of Ed. B.
Tylor, except that in Spencer's theory the element of ancestor worship
is most emphasised. We are prevented by limitations of space from
treating of the supposed place of magic and the " worship " of the
totem in the dcvclojjment of religion. The general theory is given in
Hobhouse, " Morals in Evolution," Vol. II. The account of animism
given al>ovc will serve to show the absurd length of rein which sociologists
arc accustomed to allow to their imaginations in theorising on the
origin of religion.
NATURAL RELIGION 41
return to the body will be what is now spoken of as the
resurrection of the body. Thus each thing comes to appear
to have a second self, which, when first its existence comes
to be suspected, is thought of as Hke unto the visible self,
and to have the same needs and propensities. The second
self of the dead man hunts, eats, and drinks in some land
beyond our own. These doubles of dead men swarm
everywhere. " They are workers of remarkable occurrences
in the surrounding world." Men are at the mercy of these
ghosts. Primitive man tries first to defend himself against
them by the aid of the exorcist and the sorcerer, i.e.
"antagonistically"; later, losing faith in the efficacy of
opposition, he has recourse to propitiation and petition.*
The souls of ancestors are not only feared but revered.
Some of the rites performed over the dead denote awe,
fear and reverence only, some propitiation and petition.
" Out of this motive and these observances come all forms
of worship." " Every holy rite is derived from a funereal
rite." " Remote ancestral ghosts ' come to be ' regarded
as creators and deities." " From the worship of the dead
every other kind of worship has arisen."
Criticism.
Our criticism of this theory which must be of the briefest
kind is as follows : —
{a) This theory does not now carry much weight amongst
anthropQlogists. As R. R. Marett f says — " the impression
left on my mind by a study of the leading theorists is that
animistic interpretations have been by them decidedly
overdone."
{b) This theory of animism supposes that the savage
regards all nature as living, each thing being inhabited by
spirits. Now the savage may indeed regard some parts of
nature as the homes of spirits just as civilised men do, but
the supposition that in his mind every tree and every stone X
* This change of attitude from exorcist antagonism to petition
is also found in Sir J. G. Frazer's theory of the origin of reUgion as
expounded in his now famiUar work, " The Golden Bough," p. 77.
f " The Threshold of Religion."
I For a statement of the theory that stone-worship was once
prevalent amongst all savage races see Hobhouse, " Morals in Evolu-
tion," II. p. 5. He explains that stones were at first, through some
kind of paradoxical development, worshipped in themselves as in-
animate : later they were regarded and worshipped as the dwelling-
place of spirits.
42 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
has its attendant spirit is absurd. Even the structure of
the language of some of those races that are supposed to
suffer from this delusion completely disproves such a supposi-
tion. Let us take the instance of the Bantu languages
(African). The Bantu languages arrange all their nouns
under specific categories, some of male, some of female ; some
of animate, some of inanimate things, showing conclusively
that in the eyes of this people the whole world is not animated.*
It is not always easy to get at the mentality of savages, but
all experience goes to show that their views about the world
around them are, like those of civilised men, strange mixtures
of truth and falsehood. They are never wholly absurd.
(c) The mere belief that behind the trees and stones and
mountains there are attendant spirits stronger than us and
having power over us could not give rise to religion f any
more than the fear of other men stronger than oneself could
give rise to religion. All investigation goes to show that
all religion is based on the conception of One who created
all things, on whom all things depend for their continued
existence, to whom, therefore, we are indebted. One also
who will punish the wicked and reward the good. This
idea of complete dependence in the sense that we are indebted
to God for what we are and have is the essential element
in all religion. The mere thought of spirits behind the
phenomena of the world could not, therefore, suffice to
explain the genesis of rehgion. Granted, however, the idea
of a Creator then the idea of other spirits co-operating with
God in the government of the world might easily arise in the
savage as well as in the civilised mind. " If man," writes
Jastrow,J "was without religion before the animistic
hypothesis presented itself to his mind animism would not
of itself have led to the rise of rehgion."
{d) Belief in the existence of souls surviving after the
death of the body which is the essential feature of animism
is in the case of every race of men inseparably bound up with
♦ Sec on this point Lc Roy, " La Hcligion dcs Primitifs," p. 78 ;
Also article on ' Hantu Lan^uaf-cs," in Ency. Brit.
t If fear and awe of f>ersonat spirits Iwhind phenomena could not
Rive ri.sc to religion neither could awe of a mere force that ' leaves
in solution the distinction of personal and impersonal " become the
basis of religion. To such a force Mr. Marett gives tlie name of Mana,
awe of which he tells us forms the first step in the development of
religion. It jirecedes, he maintains, the animistic period. Sec
" Ihreshold of Keligion," p. 119. Also for criticism of the theory see
" Dramas and Dramatic Dances," by W. Kidgeway.
t " The Study of Keligion," p. 183.
NATURAL RELIGION 43
and dependent on belief in the existence of God. No atheist,
except those of a purely academic sort, believes in immortality.
The savage's belief in souls and spirits presupposes a belief
in God, and, therefore, presupposes some sort of religious
worship.
(e) It is absurd to regard the savage as believing that
when he kills his enemy in sleep his second soul has been
out of his body, and committed murder. A day's experience
would suffice to demonstrate even to the savage mind the
unreality of dreams.
(/) Finally, animism is almost wholly unknown amongst
some of the oldest and most primitive races who yet are
deeply religious, for instance, the Pygmy races which are
amongst the oldest and most primitive on the earth.
NATURE-WORSHIP
other writers maintain that religion began in the awe and
wonder aroused in the savage mind by such impressive
phenomena as lightning the rising and setting sun, the
great forests and mountains.
Nearly all, however, that has been said in criticism of
animism applies to the present hypothesis also. The essential
characteristic of all religions is that of total dependence on
some one above us. Such phenomena as are here described
have nothing in common with this inseparable attribute of
religion.
III. — Monotheism — the Earliest Stage in the History
OF Religion
Only the very briefest reference can here be made to the
important question,* which form of rehgion is the oldest,
that of monotheism or polytheism and the rest.
Until a few years ago most anthropologists were fully
prepared in accordance with their theory of evolution to
accept the view that the history of religion represents a
slowly ascending series of stages from nature-worship through
* We are here abstracting from the information afforded by revela-
tion, and relying on natural scientific investigation only, Ethics being
a purely natural science. We cannot, therefore, be expected to
consider in a work like the present the arguments for a primitive
revelation or the theories of Wellhausen and the Assyriologists opposed
to such revelation. For these the reader should consult " La Revela-
tion Primitive," by R. P. G. Schmidt.
44 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
animism, fetishism, and polytheism, up to monotheism.
An opposite theory is now very widely accepted by anthro-
pologists (even those who are very little influenced by
religious dogma) to the effect that in the religions of savages
there are many indications which go to prove that the
primitive religion was one of pure monotheism, that the
other forms mentioned represent stages of retrogression and
decadence rather than of development, and that their
appearance belongs to a comparatively late period in the
history of the savage races.
Thus to quote only one or two of the arguments offered : — *
(i) If monotheism were a development out of the rest
then it should be the most prominent element in the religion
of those peoples where the monotheistic element and the
others are mingled together. The opposite, however, is
the case. Amongst some savage races fetishism and the
rest constitute the most vigorous part of the racial worship,
whilst the monotheistic element has every sign of decay
upon it, and lies buried under the debris of ages so that only
the most patient investigation on the part of scientists has
succeeded in bringing it to light. And this argument is
found to be all the more convincing when it is remembered
that the older the primitive race and the less affected by
advance in civihsation the more pronounced is the belief
in one God, and the fewer and less distinct the traces of
animism and polytheism. This will be shown in the third
argument to follow.
(2) We know that amongst primitive peoples it is a very
common occurrence for one god to come to be gradually
represented as many, either through being known by different
names, or through the various powers of a god being
personified, each, therefore, becoming a god, or for some
other reason. The opposite also occurs, i.e. the phenomenon
of syncretism : but it is rare amongst the. savage races. Mr.
Howitt has given instances of the multij^lication of deities
amongst the S. E. Australians, Dr. Halm f amongst the
Hottentots, and de Broglie % amongst the more developed
• Useful expositions of the view here defended are to be found i0
Andrew Jiang's and de Rroglic's works mentioned in the notes to our
present discussion, in Chr. Pesch's " Gott und Gotlcr," in R. P. G.
Schmidt's work, " La K6v6lation Primitive," and in P. W. Schmidt's
able work on the I'ygmy Races here frequently referred to.
t op cit,
J In his interesting work, " ProblSmes ct Conclusions dc I'Histoire
dcs Religions."
NATURAL RELIGION 45
peoples.* In these cases, therefore, polytheism and the
other forms mentioned would seem to have been preceded
by monotheism, not vice versa.
{3) It is certain that monotheism is the religion of the
very oldest of the primitive races f — fetish-worship, animism,
magic, polytheism, and the rest being characteristic rather
of the later tribes. In this connection an interesting study
in Comparative Rehgion is afforded by the tribes of the
Malay Peninsula. Here there are three primitive Pagan
tribes — the Semang pygmies, the Sakai, and the Jakun.
The first is the most primitive and isolated. Nomads of
the forest, Hving by the chase, innocent of all kinds of regular
business, they are quite unprogressive, and still retain all
the characteristics and cherish the traditions that have come
down to them from their ancestors in ages past. Their
religion is one of pure monotheism. The Sakai are the next
" higher " grade. They have mingled to a shght degree
with the neighbouring peoples. Their religion is mono-
theistic, with, however, a notable mixture of the other
forms. The " highest " level is that of the half-civiUsed
Jakun. Here the monotheistic element is faint and in-
operative as compared with the elements of animism, ancestor
worship, and magic. :{:
From this it is clear that the nearer one gets to the primitive
stock the purer the monotheism, from which it follows that
all the rest are accretions belonging to a later period.
Our conclusion is that fetishism, animism, polytheism did
not precede the appearance of monotheism ; on the contrary,
* Mere " syncretism " could not explain the worship of one supreme
God, Lord of all things, which is the worship practised by all the oldest
of the primitive races, e.g. the Andamanese, and the Semang Pj'gmies.
If two tribes worshipping distinct " local " gods unite, these " local "
gods may coalesce and become the god of the joint territory and
community. But this god would still be " local," not the God of
all things. The conception of God as supreme over all things can
only rest on reasoning of one or other of the kinds we have described,
p. 6.
f The argument is fully given in P. W. Schmidt's work already
quoted, and Skeat's " Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula."
X In addition to the arguments given in the text others might
also be quoted showing that the savage religions manifest evidences
of having been derived from the teachings of Genesis. R. P. G.
Schmidt points out that the sacrifice of the first fruits is essential in
many of the most primitive religions such as that of the Andamanese.
Also the social organisation and monogyny of the very earliest races
like the Pygmies, and the S. E. Australians point to Genesis. See
the argument in " La Revelation Primitive et les Donnees Actuelles de
la Science," pp. 214-236.
46 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
that it preceded them ; that in general these cruder reUgions
represent a retrogression ; that in fact they are nothing
more than so many degraded conceptions such as could
hardly fail to appear at some time during the course of ages
as accompaniments to a true natural religion in minds and
lives so distorted and strange as those of the savage races.*
* Various theories have been devised to show how monotheism
might develop out of polytheism. For instance, it is explained by
Hobhouse [op. cit. II. 119) that one god might be exalted as king
over the rest, or all the gods might gradually come to be identified
with one, or all might come to be regarded as manifestations of some
one force underlying all things, or from the worship of one national
god the people might come to acknowledge one God absolutely. It
is in this latter way that the Hebrews are said by some to have re-
linquished " monolatry " or the worship of the national god, Yahveh^
for monotheism or the acknowledgment and worship of one God (for
a criticism of other theories on the origin of Hebrew monotheism see
R. P. G. Schmidt's " La Revelation Primitive," etc., ch. 3)
But how unnatural and improbable are all these mental processes
in comparison with that simple and natural act of reasoning which
would place primitive man in possession of monotheism from the
beginning and which consists in no other postulate than that the
world must have a cause ! The mind of primitive man would not
necessarily and vatttrally be led to accept the suggestion that the gods
have a king, or that their national or tribal god was the only god, or
that all gods are manifestations of a single force underlying all things.
But the mind of primitive man as well as the mind of developed but
uncritical men would naturally and necessarily accept the proposition,
particularly if suggested to it, that the world must have a cause.
As we said before, a Hume or a Kant might raise difficulties about the
notion of cau.se, but such difficulties would not suggest themselves
to primitive man. Nor should it be thought that so abstract and
profound a conception as that of an ultimate cause would present
difficulties to the savage mind. It is just these abstract and ultimate
conceptions that are most easily understood and accepted by the
plain mind. The axioms of Euclid are more easily understood than
the " propositions." The concept of an ultimate cause moving the
world is more easily grasped than the concept of the intermediate
causes. These latter represent highly complex things which only
an educated man can understand. Our contention, therefore, is that
in the absence of proof to the contrary when a primitive race is found
to possess a monotheistic religion we should presume that this belief
is due to some of those very simple proce.s.ses of reasoning which we
have enumerated in the cour.se of the present chapter, and which could
hardly (ail to suggest themselves in some way to the primitive races.
But this assumption is shown to be fully in accordance with fact
from what the investigations of scientific men have now succeeded
in disclosing, viz. that it is the later primitive races only that exhibit
traces of animism, fetishism, and polytheism, whilst the oldest primitive
races are monotheistic.
CHAPTER II
A MAN'S DUTIES CONCERNING HIMSELF, AND
SOME OF HIS DUTIES TOWARDS OTHERS
In a sense, all a man's duties concern himself or are
duties towards himself, for they all concern some good
object or end, the attainment of which constitutes a
perfection, in some sense, of one's self. Most duties,
however, concern the self only indirectly. Directly
they are duties to attain some object quite distinct from
the perfecting of one's self, e.g. our duty to help the
poor, to avoid stealing, murder, etc. But some duties
are such that the immediate object which they concern
is one's own self ; * their immediate and direct aim is to
* The obvious objection will occur to the reader — how can a
man have duties towards himself ? Why may not each of us do
what he likes with himself ? He who owns a book can treat it in
what way he likes ; why not treat himself in what way he likes ?
The assumption, it will be added, that each one owns himself is here
quite legitimate, for nature has given each man into his own control ;
he directs himself in all his actions ; and what does ownership mean
except that a man controls the thing which is possessed, and that he
can exclude others from its control ? Man owns himself, therefore,
and can do what he likes with himself, and, therefore, has no duties in
regard to himself.
Reply (a) It is not true that man controls himself to the extent
that is supposed in this objection and that is commonly assumed.
We do not bring ourselves into existence, nor maintain ourselves in
existence, and there are thousands of functions, physical and mental,
over which we have no control, (b) Man, unlike ordinary property, is
a person, with dignity and rights, and he should be treated with all
the respect that personality has a right to, no matter into whose
hands he is entrusted, whether his own or those of other people,
(c) Man has a duty to seek his own perfection, which duty is based on
the presence in man of a natural appetite for his own good (See Vol. I.
p. 90, and present Vol. p. 52). Man has no such natural appetite
towards the preservation of his property. He cannot, therefore,
treat himself in the way in which he treats other things. We should
explain, however, that a man's duties towards himself are never
duties of justice, but of charity only. Justice is essentially a virtue
ad alter um.
47
48 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
perfect one's self, e.g. the dut}^ to improve one's intellect,
to strengthen one's character, to sustain life and health.
This is the class of duty with which we are here con-
cerned, duties the direct object of which is a man's
own self.
OUR PRINCIPAL DUTIES TOWARDS OURSELVES ENUMERATED
Our duties towards ourselves may all be summed up
in the one formula, viz. we are bound to seek our own
perfection — our own good. Now our good is to be
found (i) partly in ourselves, e.g. increase of knowledge,
the maintenance of health ; (2) partly in the possession
of objects outside ourselves, e.g. friends, money, a good
reputation. We may be allowed to refer briefl}^ to each
of these.
(i) A man is bound to seek his own personal per-
fection by the proper exercise of his own capacities.
Now we can perfect ourselves in a hundred different
ways and along a hundred different lines. But it would
be absurd to say that a man should perfect himself or
develop along all the lines that it is open to him to
pursue. All men possess in some degree capacities for
studying mathematics, history, music, poetry, painting,
law, philosophy, theology, the military art, etc. Not
one of these branches is completely closed, by nature
at all events, to any individual. But no man could
perfect himself along all these lines together, and to
attempt to do so would mar our chance of perfection or
even of progress along any one. It is absurd, therefore,
to insist that men should seek the exercise of all the
capacities that they possess. To do so is not only not
a law, it is not even in accordance with the economy
of nature. The fact is that nature has supplied all men
in varying degrees with all the capacities that belong
to human nature, but she has left each one to determine,
in accordance with his circumstances and the require-
ments of society, in what particular branch he will
A MAN'S DUTIES 49
develop and perfect himself, or (which is the same thing)
what class of human interest he will choose to promote.
Some study mathematics, others history : some become
medical men, others lawyers, others soldiers, others
artists ; some undertake the duties of family life, others
remain single for the purpose of. pursuing some work or
furthering some interest which requires personal freedom
— the soldier that he may fight battles for his country,
the philanthropist that he may alleviate some of the
world's sufferings, the missionary in order to belong to
the people over whom he is set, to be at their beck and
call, and to carry on the work of God untrammelled by
any human ties. These and a thousand other lines of
pursuit, as wide-extending as the sum of the world's
work and interests, are the alternatives which nature
so generously opens out before us. In giving to each
the full number of capacities, she has, to a great extent,
placed the choice of our vocation in our own hands.
But she requires that some one choice be made, that
at least one line of human perfection be followed.
But there are some things that are a duty for each
and all, that are required for the proper ordering of
life in every department. Some of these are (a) goods
of the soul, like knowledge and virtue ; some (6) goods
of the body, (a) A man is bound to acquire some
knowledge of the law of God, without which his whole
life will be imperilled and misdirected. All, too, are
obliged to acquire such knowledge as is necessary for
the proper performance of the duties that attach to
their state in life. Every man also is bound to seek
to strengthen and adorn his will with the necessary
moral virtues, particularly the virtue of temperance
for the control of passion, without which, virtue and
harmony are impossible in our lives, {b) Every man is
under a strict obligation to preserve his health un-
impaired. He may indeed fast and abstain, out of
certain higher motives, but nothing would justify him
in injuring his health by such practices. Then there is
50 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a negative duty not to injure ourselves in any way, and
in particular not to destroy our own lives. Of this very
grave duty, however, we shall speak at some length
presently.* These are all duties that concern internal
goods.
(2) We are bound also to perfect ourselves by the
possession of certain external goods. Every man is
bound, without, of course, undue anxiety, to provide a
sufficiency of goods for his own maintenance and the
maintenance of those committed to his care. The
degree and kind of maintenance will depend on circum-
stances of a person's state in life. One's calling may,
indeed, be such as to induce him, with a fine courage
and trust, to throw all his reliance on God or on man-
kind, and to go boldly forth to do some work of great
moment, without any guarantee as to the future main-
tenance of himself or others. Great saints, philanthrop-
ists, and scientists have done so. But in ordinary
circumstances a man is bound to rely on himself, and to
take no unnecessary risks, but to provide as far as
possible for the due performance of his obligations in
life by securing himself against want.
Men should also have a genuine care for the good
opinion of others. Against this precept it is possible
to err in three principal ways — (a) making no account
of the opinion of others. The esteem of other men is
to be reckoned a genuine good, of valtie in and for itself.
As such, it is an ornament and a possession which one
cannot afford to dispense with. It is also good as a
means, first, as an aid to the proper accomplishment of
duty, for it is easier to work in a friendly environment
than in one that is hostile ; and secondly as a true
norm of excellence — there being few better tests of a
man's good character and life than the esteem of those
who arc in a position to know and understand him.
{b) Wc err also by aiming at too much praise, for this
is to over-estimate the element of genuine good that is
• p- 52.
A MAN'S DUTIES 51
in human esteem. There is a Hmit to the value of
human esteem just as there is a limit to the value of
money ; and just as it would be wrong to desire all the
money in the world or even superabundant riches, so
it is absurd to seek for the esteem of all men, unless
indeed our position in societj^ renders the universal
esteem of real value to us. (c) We do wrong also in
setting a higher value on public esteem than on our
own independence, surrendering our own judgment in
order to be praised by others. A man is worth more to
himself than the esteem of all the world can be to him.
But besides valuing the esteem of others, a man
should also set a high value on the possession of friends.
A true friend is amongst the greatest of human blessings.
It would be wrong to despise the friendship of others,
just as it would be wrong to overestimate its value by
subjecting ourselves completely to others or by seeking
to have too many friends. " A few friends for pleasure's
sake like sweetening in your food," and " Have neither
many friends nor none," are tried and sensible maxims.
Again, men stand in need of amusement and should
not be insensible to pleasure, just as one should not
overestimate the value of pleasure. Not all pleasures
or amusements suit all callings, but there is no calling
that cannot be suited by some amusements. Amuse-
ments, rationally indulged in, are a true human good
both in themselves and as means to the bettering of
mind and body.
Of the various duties of a man concerning himself
two of the most prominent and important are those of
self-maintenance and of temperance. The former gives
rise to the problem whether suicide is lawful, the latter
to the question of the nature and the law of temperance.
We shall devote the remainder of our discussion on a
man's duties to himself to the consideration of these
two problems — of suicide and of temperance.
52 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
OF SUICIDE
By suicide is meant the direct compassing of one's
own death. Directly compassing death means the
desiring of death in itself, and the voluntary taking of
effective means to its accomplishment. Suicide must
be most carefully distinguished from another class of
action which will be considered at the close of our present
discussion, viz. the indirect compassing of one's own
death through the pursuit of something which happens
to result, against or independently of our will, in death ;
as when a soldier dies in battle, or a patient as the result
of an operation. In suicide a man aims at death. It
is accomplished in two ways, positively, as, for instance,
by taking poison or stabbing one's self : negatively, as
by voluntary self-imposed starvation undertaken in order
to die. In their moral character there is no difference
either in kind or degree between negative and positive
suicide. In both there is a positive aiming at death.
The difference is only in the means chosen.
We shall first proceed to prove that suicide is radically
opposed to the nature of the person who attempts it, so
opposed that under no circumstances whatsoever could
it be justified. Secondly, we shall show that it is an
injustice to society ; thirdly, that it is an insult to God.
(i) The first and most obvious element of evil in
suicide is that it is a violation of the natural * law in
as much as it violates the nature of the individual who
commits it. We saw, when treating of the moral
criteria, t that the powers of man are directed by nature
to the attainment of some object or end, and, through
the attainment of such object or end, to the development
and fuller being of the individual to whom these powers
belong. This principle holds true of every kind of
power — intellectual, sensuous, and vegetative. The will
from its very nature aims at happiness in the attainment
♦ And, therefore, ol the eternal law of God in which the natural
law iH grounded.
t Vol. I. p. 90. Sec ' S. Thcol.' II., II. Q. LXIV. Art. 5.
A MAN'S DUTIES 53
of some end, and, therefore, also at the well-being and
development of the individual. The sensuous appetites,
like that for food, aim at the fuller life and development
of man on his sensuous side. Such vegetative tendencies
or appetites as growth and the digestive movements are
directed to the well-being or betterment of the substance
of the body. It is impossible that any appetite set up in
us by nature should be directed to any other thing than the
fuller being of the individual. It is impossible that it
should aim at nothingness or at destruction. A time
comes no doubt when the body begins to fall into decay.
But this decay is due not to the fact that our natural
powers are aiming at decay, but to the fact that they
can no longer function, that their working is interfered
with, that their objects cannot be attained. The result
of this failure to function properly is decay. No natural
faculty is directed by nature to its own annihilation, or
to that of the constitution to which it belongs. " The
tendency," writes M. Guyau, " to persevere in life is
the necessary law of life, not of human life only, but of
all life." * This natural and necessary tendency of
living forces to their own further and completer existence
is an admitted fact of science and of philosophy.
Now in suicide a man makes voluntary use of his own
powers, and by his act those powers are directed to
attain an object the very contrary of that which, -by
their own nature, they are directed to attain — they are
used, viz. not for the welfare but for the destruction of
the agent. There could be no more direct or unequivocal
violation of nature than this. To use a power and to
use it for the accomplishment of what is most directly
opposed to its own natural end is the most complete per-
version that is possible of nature's purposes and aims.
Suicide, therefore, is a violation of nature, of the natural
law, and, through the natural law, of the eternal law of
God also, on which the natural law is ultimately
grounded.
* See Vol. I. of this work, p. 90.
54 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Some Difficulties
The principle to which we have made appeal in proving
the unnatural character oi suicide suggests the following
difhculty : it is quite true that vegetative and sensuous
powers tend necessarily to the maintenance and develop-
ment of the agent. For this reason an animal could neither
desire death and extinction, nor attempt to take its own
life. But an intellectual being is capable of desiring death,
and hence it cannot be true that the intellectual appetite
of will is fixed by nature on the maintenance and develop-
ment of the individual. In the very act of suicide itself,
for instance, the agent does not desire his own maintenance
or well-being.
Reply. — This difficulty only helps to bring out in a clearer
light the universality of the law that all life (indeed all being),
of whatever kind, tends naturally and necessarily to preserve
itself in being. For, even when a man wishes for death, that
act of willing is based upon a still more fundamental move-
ment of will, a movement which is never absent from any
act of willing, and on which every human act is grounded,
viz. the natural and inseparable tendency of the will to
good, to well-being, to happiness, to satisfaction of some
kind. Whether we desire to pass an examination, or to
take a holiday, or to read a book — in every act the agent
simply brings to bear upon some concrete end or object
the desire of the will for happiness or the " good." Some-
times the object in which we seek to realise that desire is
a real " good," sometimes it is an apparent " good." But
in every act we seek to realise this most fundamental of all
desires, that, viz. for happiness. In suicide also we aim at
happiness or satisfaction, either some positive gratification,
like that of disappointing or hurting others, or the negative
good of escaping from unhappincss. Our will, therefore,
aims always at the well-being of the self, and that aim is
maintained even in our attempt at sclf-anniliilation.
" Through very love of self," says a writer of note,* " him-
self he slew." It is this deepest and most fundamental
of all desires, this setting which the will has received from
nature and of which it can never be deprived, that is opposed
and violated, as well as cheated of its natural object, in
suicide,
A second difficulty is the following : is it correct to say
that in suicide the person desires to compass his own destruc-
• G. Meredith, " The Egoist," p. 5.
A MAN'S DUTIES ' 55
tion or annihilation ? At death the soul does not disappear.
It is a dogma of faith that the body will rise again. Does it
not seem, therefore, that what is desired and accomphshed
in suicide is not annihilation, but a new life, more perfect
than the present, and, if so, how can it be said that suicide
is a violation of our natural appetite for continued existence
and well-being ?
Reply. — Natural tendencies are all tendencies to the
well-being of the natural agent, the agent regarded as a
product of nature. Nature could not set up in any thing a
tendency towards a condition which is either unnatural or
which is even above nature. But the natural constitution of
man, from which springs all our natural powers and appetites,
is that of a composite of body and soul combined to form one
person. And, therefore, our natural desire for happiness is a
desire for the happiness and well-being of the natural ^^x son,
consisting of body and soul. In suicide, therefore, we use
our natural powers for an end which is the frustration of
their own natural purpose.
A third difficulty, the last support and argument of those
who contemplate freeing themselves from life's burdens, may
be briefly put thus : better even annihilation than a life full
of pain and sorrow. Why, therefore, not choose the better
and leave the worse ?
Reply. — Cold reason answers — there is nothing in this life,
no matter how unwelcome to us, that is not better than
annihilation. For annihilation is nothing, and in nothing
there is no perfection and no " good," And if this reply,
though it really strikes at the root of the present difficulty,
is regarded as too abstract to afford comfort in bearing the
trials of life, we answer that it is not meant to give comfort,
but only to represent the true facts of the case. But there
are other considerations also that can supply all the comfort
and sustaining power that are required. In every life, no
matter how unhappy, there is much good. The evil of each
one's life is but one of its many elements, and it is outweighed
many times by the good. It is the very essence of sorrow,
however, that it turns our attention away from the good and
fixes it upon the evil, and thus we find it hard to realise
that in an unhappy hfe there is any real good or happiness.
Again even our natural reason tells us that evil can be turned
to good, if not here, at least elsewhere,* if not in this world.
• See Vol. I. p. 86.
56 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
then in the next. There are many seasons and many climes
in nature, and the good of present losses does not always
appear at once or where we will. Finally, even if we have
no trust in nature itself, still the Author of nature remains,
and, as ruler of the universe. He must bring things to a good
end. We must be patient and wait for His reward. Better
anything than to offend Him by throwing His gift, the gift
of life, in His face, and rushing into His presence unsum-
moned. Suicide is the worst of all solutions for pain and
sorrow.
(2) Our second argument for the wrongfulness of
suicide is the following : Suicide is a violation of justice
as between the individual and society. The individual
is naturally destined for society,* and, therefore, he is
naturally a part or member of society and belongs to
society as the part of any organism belongs to the whole.
To cut ourselves off from existence is to deprive society
of that which belongs to it by the same kind of title by
which the limb belongs to the body of which nature
makes it a part.
(3) Suicide is an insult to the Creator. The Author
of nature has given us all that we are and have. It is
for Him who gave us our life to take it from us when
He wills, not ours to throw His gift in His face. He
has set us in this world in order to work out our per-
fection here. It is for us to remain at our appointed
posts until we are recalled.
The Indirect compassing of one's own death.
Indirectly a man causes his own death, when without
aiming at death he does that which results in death. f
♦ Sec Vol. I., pp. 107, 108; Vol. II., pp. 463. 471.
t So as not to complicate the problem here, we take it for granted
that death is foreseen as certain in each case. Usually adjoined to
the above conditions is the provision that the more remote the pro-
bability that the evil effect will occur, the less the degree of goodness
or utility in the other effect that is required to justify our act. Where
there is extremely little danger of death any small good will suffice to
justify our act. Where death is almost certain, as when a man jumps
A MAN'S DUTIES 57
It can occur in two ways, positively, as when one rushes
into battle ; negatively, as when a man refuses to eat
so that another may take the only food available and
thereby be enabled to live.
The question whether it is lawful for some good
purpose to do an act which we know will result in death
leads us back to a problem of great importance which
occupied us in the early part of this work, that, viz.
of the double effect. We saw * that where an act which
is in itself indifferent has two results, one good and one
bad, it is lawful to do this act in spite of the foreseen
evil consequences, provided that three conditions are
fulfilled (i) that the evil effect is not desired on its own
account ; for that would be directly to wish evil, which
is never lawful ; the evil must be permitted only, not
aimed at as an end ; (2) that the good effect does not
follow from the bad, since, if it did, the evil element
would be desired as means to the good ; it would be
desired, therefore, in itself (although not for itself), and
thus it would be desired directly, which is unlawful ;
(3) provided also that there is a sufficient reason for
permitting the bad effect, or, which is the same thing,
provided there is a sufficient proportion between the
good and the evil effect, the one in some way counter-
balancing the other. Now the problem which we are
at present considering is only a concrete instance of
this more general problem of the " double effect." Is
the indirect compassing of one's own death ever lawful ?
Is it lawful to do an act which, while accompanied by
some good consequence, such as fighting for one's country,
or feeding the hungry, involves also another evil conse-
quence, viz. one's own death ? From what precedes
from a high tower, only the greatest good or the avoiding of some
terrible evil would justify the act. A man may jump from a tower
(trusting to some accident to save his life) to avoid the rising flames.
But no cause will justify him in shooting himself through the brain.
Such an act is not indifferent. Of its nature it is fatal. It is the
direct procuring of one's own death.
• Vol. I. p. 39.
58 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
it will be evident that such an act is sometimes lawful,
but only under the prescribed conditions. It is lawful
to do an act involving as a consequence my own death,
provided (i) that I do not aim at death ; (2) that the
good accomplished by my act is not itself the result of
my death. It would not, for instance, be lawful for me
to starve myself to death in order that some one in
whom I am interested might become heir to my pro-
perty, or in order that by my death I might escape some
great evil : (3) provided also that the good effect pro-
duced in some way counterbalances the ever grave evil
of death. I may go to battle, knowing that I shall die,
for the sake of my country's honour. If the surrendering
of all the food in my possession is necessary for another's
life, I may make the sacrifice without sin, one life, no
matter how poor or ignoble, being always sufficiently
the equivalent of another life. A captain may stick *
to his ship and not attempt to save himself as long as
there is even one passenger on board who might require
his assistance. Nay, even if none remained, he would
be justified in clinging to his post if any glimmer of
hope remains that in the end the vessel might be saved.
In both cases a great charge is being fulfilled. But if
all hope of saving the vessel has departed and no one
remains who might require assistance, a captain is bound
to try to save his life, not even the disgrace of his failure
sufficing to justify him in refusing to make use of such
means of safety as are at hand.f Men, too, may lawfully
stand aside and not rush for boat or belt whilst the lives
of women and children, or even of other men, are being
• Sticking to the ship is an indillcront action in itself. Throwing
himself into the sea in order to he drowned is not indilferent, but bad :
it is the direct compassing of one's own death, and could under no
circumstances be justified. Jkit as we saw in a note (p. 57) merely
jumping into the sea with the hope of not being drowned may be
indifferent.
t For two reasons, first, there is no proportion between the saving
of his reputation and the loss of his life : and, secondly, he avoids
<lisgracc hy dying. Jhc good effect follows, therefore, as a result of
the bad (see p. 57).
A MAN'S DUTIES 59
saved. In all these cases the compensating considera-
tion is that of at least one human life saved for each
one which is surrendered.
Nor is the saving of another's life always necessary
as compensation for the loss of our own. Any great
and overwhelming good may suffice as compensation.
But in no case may a man seek his own death, no matter
what the good to be gained. Our right extends only
to the doing of that which is in itself good or indifferent
or to remaining inactive ; and our action or inaction must
be really necessary for the attainment of the " good "
end to which it is directed, the " good " which justifies
us in permitting ourselves to die.
OF TEMPERANCE
In the first part of the present work we explained in
a general way the nature of the virtue of temperance
and also its various parts, integral, subjective, and
potential. It will be necessary here to give a more
detailed account of this virtue and in particular to set
before the reader, with what fullness the scope of this
work allows, an analysis of the law or norm of temper-
ance.
Man is not a being of reason alone. He is a creature
of sense also, and out of his sense nature spring a number
of sense appetites, i.e. of permanent tendencies or
inclinations towards certain sense objects. They are of
two kinds — concupiscible appetites, or appetites for the
attainment of certain pleasurable ends, and irascible
appetites, or appetites urging one to the facing and
overcoming of difficulties.* Temperance has to do with
the first kind of appetite onl}-. Its function is to restrain
man from the immoderate pursuit of pleasure.
* This latter appetite is very highly developed in some animals.
Dogs and cats will even set themselves to imagine opposition and
resistance on the part of some object in order to experience the pleasure
of capturing it in spite of resistance.
6o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Now the concupiscible appetites natural to man are
very varied. They vary in their objects (and, therefore,
in degree of importance), in their strength and intensity,
and in the persistence with which they urge one to the
attainment of their ends. Most important of all, how-
ever, and also, in the design of nature, most difficult of
resistance and most persistent in their exercise, are those
appetites that concern the maintenance of life. They
are two — the appetite for food and drink, by which the
life of the individual is conserv-ed, and the appetite of
sex subserving the propagation and maintenance of the
species. The controlling and directing of these two
appetites forms the central and essential function of
the virtue of temperance. Other less important and
less intense passions or appetites are controlled and
directed by the lesser virtues which we speak of as the
allied or potential parts of temperance.
The control or government of the passions falling
under the virtue of temperance implies the existence of
a law or norm of temperance with which the exercise
of these passions must be made to accord. This law or
norm of temperance we must here attempt to deduce.
Like all other laws of human action it is defined by the
end or object aimed at. The law regulating the use of
the means is always set by the end,* those things being
prescribed in every case which are necessary for attain-
ing the end. The law governing the use of the two
appetites here under consideration is set by their natural
end. Food and drink are meant in the economy of
nature for the maintenance of the individual life, and
the law governing their use is that they should be used
in such a way as to promote life and health, or, at all
events, that their use should not be inconsonant with
the maintenance of health. f The end of the sex appetite
• Aristotle Nich. Eth., VJl. *'
t " S. Thcol.," Q. CXLI. Art. 6. St. Thomas explains (a) that a
thing can be necessary for life in cither of two senses — first, for life
itself, so that without it life would become extinct, e.g. food : secondly,
for the conveniences of life, e.g. pleasant food. The virtueof temperance
A MAN'S DUTIES 6i
is in the order of nature the propagation and welfare of
the race, and the law governing the exercise of this
capacity or appetite is that it should accord with the
welfare of offspring. Let us examine these two parts of
the law of temperance in some detail.
The requirements of health vary in different individuals
and, therefore, the rules governing the use of food vary
with different individuals. Also the requirements of
health and life vary in the case of the same individual
with difference of circumstances. The requirements of
the law of temperance vary in a corresponding manner.
And so it may happen, not merely that wide divergences
may occur in the law of temperance governing the
actions of men in different sets of circumstances, but
that under abnormal circumstances the requirements of
temperance may be completely at variance with \Nhat
is a universal law under normal circumstances. Thus,
if a surgical operation is necessary for health and life,
and no anaesthetic can be had, it would be lawful to
administer whiskey in such quantities as would render
the patient unconscious, a thing which could never be
lawful under ordinary circumstances. Under all cir-
cumstances the bodily health and life of the individual
are the norm and law of temperate action.
Opposed to temperance in the use of food and drink
is gluttony. The glutton is one who eats and drinks
as long as pleasure can be derived from those acts,
without care for the governing law of temperance.
Gluttony becomes gravely sinful when it leads to serious
injury to one's health, when it renders a man unfit to
perform the duties to which he is bound by grave obliga-
allows fully for both these necessities. But there are things that are
necessary for life in neither of these senses. Of these (b) some though
not necessary are still not opposed to life in any way ; and in some
cases they may even promote life and health {e.g. the more delicate
and expensive foods), and of these, according to St. Thomas, nature
allows a moderate use, account being taken of times and circum-
stances : (c) others are opposed to life, and these cannot be allowed.
Even, however, in the case of the best food, the quantity should be
such as accords with the health of the person.
62 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
tion, or when one casts off and despises all thought of
law and ordinateness in eating and drinking, and sets
himself to seek the pleasures of the palate for its own
exclusive sake, making as it were a god of this pleasure.
A special case of gluttony is the condition known as
drunkenness — or the condition in which the reason
becomes suspended through over-indulgence in intoxi-
cating liquor. The elements of sin here are many.
First, drunkenness always involves injury to health in
some degree. Secondly, in drunkenness the faculty
which is by nature meant to guide and control us in
eating and drinking is itself suspended as a result of
drinking. Drunkenness is, therefore, a perversion of
the natural order ; it is analogous to that other per-
version of the natural order which occurs when the
citizens of the State seize without reason upon their
monarch, cast him into prison and treat him as a subject
of the citizens and as inferior to them instead of as
ruler. The temporary suspension of reason is not in
itself evil. Reason is temporarily suspended in sleep
by the gentle operation of nature itself. It is violently
extinguished at surgical operations by means of an
anaesthetic. But in both these cases, as St. Thomas
so well puts it,* reason herself requires the temporary
suspension of her own exercise for the sake of the
welfare of the individual. Since, therefore, it is reason
that prescribes its own suspension in these cases, the
order of reason is here fully maintained. f In ordinary
drunkenness, however, reason is suspended for no end
which is prescribed by reason, but merely for the sake
of excess in the pleasure of drinking. Thirdly, % in
• " S. Theol.," II. II*., CLIIl. 2 ad. 2 — " rationis actus aliquando
intermittatur pro aliquo quod secundum rationcm fit."
\ I'o restrain a monarch in obedience to the orders of the monarch
himself would not be inordinate in a citizen, since by following the
command of the monarch the subject treats him as ruler and not as
a subject. It is so also in the case j^iven above.
X This third reason is a variant of the second ; but it has its own
special significance. The second argument emphasises the fact that
the guide of conduct is put away, the third that "higher" is made
subject to " lower."
A MAN'S DUTIES 63
drunkenness the higher part of man is made completely
subject to the lower. In sleep and in surgical operations
reason and consciousness are suspended for the sake of
the welfare of the whole man, and the whole man is
superior to reason which is a part only. But in ordinary
drunkenness, reason, the higher part, is suspended for
the sake of a lower part, for the sake, viz. of a passing
organic pleasure alone. Drunkenness, therefore, is a
subversion of the natural order obtaining between the
parts of our human constitution.
The law of temperance in regard to sex desire must
now be explained. The end of the sex function in the
order of nature is the continuance and increase of the
human race. For that end the sexual faculty is supplied
by nature, and for that end nature has provided a special
inclination to its -exercise. The law governing the
exercise of this function, as in the case of all other
functions, is set by its end. The sexual function can
only be exercised in a way consonant with the generation
of offspring. Any other use of it would be a perversion
of the natural order and, therefore, a violation of the
natural law. Sometimes, indeed, nature herself, through
no fault of the person, fails to realise the end of the
function through the sterility of either party. But that
failure on the part of nature is not to be attributed to
the human agent, and constitutes no bar to the legitimate
exercise of the sexual function, the governing law of
temperance in regard to which is that, so far as depends
on the human agent, the exercise of this faculty should
be of a kind which is consonant with its end. If the
subsequent natural processes over which man has no
control fail of their effect, that failure is an accident
only, it is not a sin, and represents no unlawfulness on
the part of man.
But the law of temperance as governing the relation
of the sexes goes farther still. For nature aims in this
function not at children only, but at perfect children,.
64 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
i.e. at children up to the standard of nature — at children,
therefore, existing in a condition in which body and
mind can be properly cared for by those responsible
for its existence, not at children maimed in body and
defective in mind, or, through want of the responsible
natural guardians, exposed to the danger of a defective
existence. But, as we shall see later, an essential and
indispensable condition of the welfare and development
of the child is a stable union of father and mother bound
together for the welfare of their offspring, or what we
speak of as the condition of marriage ; and, therefore,
marriage is an essential antecedent condition of the
exercise of the sexual function. Only in matrimon}'
is its exercise allowable by natural law. The future
child has a right even when the foundations of its
existence are being laid to this guarantee of protection
and welfare.*
The chief part of the virtue of temperance as governing
the sexual relations is chastity, whereb}^ one avoids all
that is contrary to reason and to the law of temperance
in the exercise of the sexual function. Governing the
less important relations of sex is the beautiful virtue of
modesty. Highest of all is virginity, or complete
abstinence from carnal desire f-or the sake of the more
perfect exercise of the higher faculties of man, and
particularly for the sake of more perfectly worshipping
and loving God, the highest and most perfect object
of human affection. In every department of human life
abstinence has its legitimate place, not only as a virtue,
but also as meriting the praise and commendation of
men. Men abstain from certain kinds of food and
drink in some cases for the sake of their health, in other
•cases in order to maintain a strong and unclouded
* And this law and condition remain in force even though it is
anticipated that there will be no offspring. Nature's laws are deter-
mined not by accidents and exceptions but by what normally occurs ;
and besides it is clear that an act which (whatever may occur through
accident) is primarily intended by nature for offspring should not be
performed under conditions opposed to the essential and inseparable
lights of offspring.
A MAN'S DUTIES 65
intellect. The philanthropist leaves country and friends
in order to carry out great schemes for the happiness of
other people. The soldier abstains from marriage in
order the more freely to serve his country. The virgin
renounces contact with the more material pleasures in
order to serve God more closely and unreservedly than
the married state allows.
Virginity is lawful because there is no commandment
of nature binding each particular individual to marry.
The sustainment of the race is a debt which is due not
by each individual but by the race at large. The main-
tenance of the individual life is a duty that falls on each
individual. Nobody else is in a position to secure this
end. But the propagation of the race, like progress in
the various branches of knowledge, does not require the
co-operation of each individual. " There are many
needs in a community," writes St. Thomas,* " and one
individual cannot meet them all ; but they are met
by the community through one man fulfilling one need,
another another. . . . The precept concerning generation
is one that regards the community as such . . . and it
is sufficient if some devote themselves to the propa-
gation of the race, whilst others devote themselves to
divine things, thus contributing to the beauty and the
welfare of the whole race, just as in an army some guard
the camp, some bear the standards, some wield the
sword, all of which offices are debts of the community,
debts which no one man could discharge."
Thus it will be seen that though every man is free to
marry, virginity being a privilege and not a law for any
man, and though marriage is a high and holy state, yet
there is a higher and holier state still, that, viz. of the
few who are specially favoured by God with power to
renounce the more material pleasures, and are called
by Him to undertake offices that require this higher
state. But virginity is a virtue for the few only, not
for all or for the greater number. The race, with all
•"S. Theol.," II. II., CLII. 3.
VOL. II — 5
66 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
its aptitude for greatness, even its aptitude for virginity
in some, has to be sustained ; and marriage, b}' which
nature has provided for its sustainment, is a condition
of great worth, and of high and outstanding merit.
Some of Our Duties Towards Others
Our duties towards others are principally three —
the duty of charity or benevolence,* of speaking the
truth, of justice. We shall treat briefly of the first two
classes of duty in the present chapter. The third will
occupy us during many subsequent chapters.
Of Charity
A man is bound to be charitable towards, in the sense
of loving, his neighbour, first, because his neighbour i»
one with him in his human nature. In benevolence we
put another man in our own place, and love him as an alter
ego ; and we are enabled to do this because of the unity
of all men in their common human nature, f Through
this unity of all with all in their common human nature,
nature has laid on us an obligation of loving all men,
this love being only a natural extension of, or develop-
ment from, our love of ourselves. This ground of
benevolence determines the measure also of the law of
benevolence — we must love others as we love our-
selves. Our duty, however, to love our neighbour as
ourselves is not to be understood as meaning that we
must love others with the same intensity with which
we love ourselves. It means that our love of others
must be like that which we bear to ourselves. We must
• Wc speak in the present chapter indifferently of charity, love,
and benevolence. The word charity is used here in a wider sense
than that commonly given to it. Love and benevolence we treat as
the same conceptions. The fine differences between them drawn by
St. Thomas in " S. Thcol.," II. Il«., 27, 2, netd not be observed in
our present di.scussion.
t Sec Vol. I. p. 318.
A MAN'S DUTIES 67
wish them well in the same way that we wish well to
ourselves.
Secondly, we are bound to love the rest of mankind
because we are all parts of one society, and it is a natural
law that the part exists for the whole and should pro-
mote the good of the whole. It is true that the in-
dividual man is not so much a part of society as that
his interests are to be treated as wholly subordinate to
those of society ;* nevertheless the individual is a part,
and should, therefore, love his fellowmen and seek their
good.
Thirdly, we should love our fellowmen because all
men have the same origin and are travelling to the same
end. We have come from God and God is our end and
home. Things that have the same nature have the
same end. If, in this world, men pass as strangers
to one another it is because the conventionalities and
perhaps the exigencies of society make it difficult for
us to realise, in all the relations of our lives, the fact
of our common origin and end, the full and vivid realisa-
tion of which fact, if allowed full play in our imaginations,
could not fail to unify all in the bonds of universal love
and sympathy, as all are unified in their origin and
their end. It is our imperfections as men that prevent
the links of charity from being forged or that cause them
to break and disappear as fast as nature and reason
tend to form them. However, being imperfect and
below the proper standard of human nature, it is as
well that the degree of friendship and brotherhood which
our common origin and end would justify and even
ought to entail, should not in this world be allowed to
come to complete fruition.
The love that nature demands from us is not without
its due order : for men are not all related to one another
with the same degree of closeness. Other bonds exist
besides those of origin, nature, and final end. Husband
♦ See Vol. I. pp. 334 and 343.
68 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and wife are most closely related in their common life
and in the identity of their immediate daily aims ;
parents and children, sisters and brothers are identified
in community of blood. All these must extend to
one another love in its highest degree. Others are
related as superiors and subjects, or as comrades carry-
ing on the same work. The bonds here are close and
intimate and the love they owe each other should be of
a degree commensurate with those bonds. Others,
again, are related as compatriots, patriotism being a
strong and sacred link. It also should beget a special
love. But all men have at least one tie, viz. the element
of their common humanity, and, therefore, love is
owing to all.
The claims also to which this love gives rise vary as
the closeness of men's relationship varies. When aid,
for instance, pecuniary or personal, is needed, those who
are closest to us have the first claim. But there is no
one who has not in absolute distress a claim on our
generosity. In pecuniary matters, indeed, it is not
possible for any man to help all that require aid, but
practically all can help some one, and everyone can
at least sympathise with all.
The love of our neighbour has man}^ effects,* and is
opposed by many sins. Its effects are, internally, joy
at another's good, sadness at another's woes, the desire
for peace with others ; externally, beneficence, alms-
giving, friendly reproof, administered, not anywhere,
at any time, and to anybody, but only when and where
there is a hope of producing good results. Opposed to
the love of one's neighbour are hatred, a sour tempera-
ment, envy, discord, contentiousness, sedition, scandal.
Greatest sin of all these is, perhaps, a wasteful and
unjust war, where men, on one side and on the other,
arc treated as beings without rights and as the mere
slaves of wanton rulers.
• " S. Thcol.," II. 11^, Q. 28.
A MAN'S DUTIES 69
Of Telling the Truth
The question of method is of importance here. Some
people arbitrarily define a lie as telling an untruth to
one who has a right to know the truth ; and having
given this definition they proceed to draw the not very
difficult conclusion that there is no sin in saying what is
false unless the person addressed has a right to know the
truth. The defect of this method will be obvious when
it is pointed out that if adopted generally in morals it
could be made to justify almost any act no matter how
bad. By arbitrarily defining murder, for instance, as
the killing of a man who has done me no harm, we might,
following this method, then proceed to justify the killing
of one who has done me harm — a kind of reasoning
which neither moralist nor court of justice could tolerate.
We are about to proceed to the definition of a lie ;
and the question of method is, as we said, of supreme
importance. Now the first thing to be made clear is
that in Ethics our discussion relates to things, not
words. What we are interested in here is the question
whether it is ever lawful to say what one knows to be
false. Whether we call this x, or y, or a lie, or anthro-
pophagus, makes no matter to our discussion. We
may, however, be allowed to remark that once it is
settled that saying what we know to be false is in-
trinsically wrong, the further question whether the same
thing is wrong when the person addressed has or has
not a right to the truth becomes superfluous. If saying
what is believed to be false is intrinsically wrong, it is
wrong in every case. Although, therefore, we shall
ourselves in the present discussion adopt as our definition
of a lie that which men usually understand by lying,
viz. saying to another that which one believes to be
untrue, we do so because that is, as we have said, what
men usually understand by lying, and it is the definition
adopted by the leaders in philosophy. But if any one
objects that his notion of a lie is different from this.
70 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
we can only say, first, that this is the meaning which
we attach to the word ; secondly, that our discussion
here is concerned with things, not words, it is con-
cerned with the morahty of declaring that which one
believes to be untrue, and that it matters not whether
we call this a; or y or a lie ; thirdly, that, once it has been
shown that telling an untruth is intrinsicalty bad, the
reader can then go on, if he wishes, to draw the simple
conclusion that to tell an untruth to one who has no
right to the truth is bad, and a fortiori it is bad to tell
it to one who has this right.
I. THE DEFINITION
We define a lie as speaking against one's own mind ;
speaking against one's understanding of things ; saying
that something is the case which one believes not to be
the case, or vice versa ; setting up an opposition between
one's speech and one's thought : locntio contra mentem.*
These are all one conception, viewed and worded in
different ways. As our discussion proceeds it will be
useful to emphasise sometimes one form of the definition
sometimes another. In order, however, that we may
clearly see what is and what is not contained in our
definition we shall here expand it into the following
form and then explain each part : a lie is any speech,
statement, communication, or representation, made to
another person, which seriously, that is, really, purports
to represent what one believes to be true, but which
yet the speaker knows to be untrue.
(a) Speech, statement, or representation. Such repre-
sentation ma}' be made orally or in writing or by any
other sign, such as bending or shaking the head, shrugging
the shoulders, a nod, anything in fact which is usually
accepted by men as a statement or the equivalent of
one. From this it will be obvious that merely to do
• " S. Thcol.," 11. II'""., ex. I — " mcndacium noiniiiatur ex eo
<)Uf)(I cnntrrt nicnlcm diritiir."
A MAN'S DUTIES 71
things which mislead others is not a lie unless there is
made some statement whether by word or act. To bear
an unperturbed manner outwardly when one is raging
inwardly is not a lie.
(h) Made to another 'person. The primary and funda-
mental function of speech is that of communication
between one mind and another. We could not com-
municate our thought to another and each mind and
each man would consequently be isolated from all the
rest, unless by outward signs of some kind men were
capable of expressing their thoughts, and these signs
would be useless unless made to another who is capable
of understanding their meaning. There is no lie, there-
fore, in our statement, unless our statement is of the
nature of speech, that is, a communication made to
some other person. To say, for instance, when alone,
that the sun goes round the earth or that one's age is
twenty when it is thirt}^ or to say such things to one's
dog or cat is not a lie. Communication requires two
persons, and speech is of the nature of communication.
(c) Seriously, i.e. really purporting to represent what
one believes to he true. The word " serious " is not here
used as opposed to " jocose." A statement made to
another and really purporting to represent the truth, is,
if it does not represent the truth, a lie, and it remains a
lie even when the end which one puts before himself is
jocose, i.e. when it is meant to create amusement,
either for himself or for others. To say to a boy on
All Fools' day that his teacher wishes to see him, when
it is known that this is not the case, is a lie — a very
minor lie, no doubt, but still a lie. The innocence of
the end aimed at diminishes, * indeed, the sin of lying,
but it still leaves the lying statement what it is in itself,
just as any other end would.
♦ " Diminuitur," says St. Thomas, " culpa mendacii si ordinatur
ad aliquod bonuna vel delectabile, et sic est mendacium jocosum."
The holy doctor, had, as we see, an understanding for the delectation
of a jocose lie.
72 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
It should be remembered, however, that it is possible
for the jocular element in our statement to become
itself a part of the statement instead of remaining
outside the statement, as merely the end to which it is
directed. And thus what is often incorrectly called a
jocose lie is really not a lie, but a true statement, made
up partly of words, partly of jocose acts, and partly,
perhaps, of the circumstances, for even the circum-
stances sometimes " speak." We said before that
" speech " is to be understood in a very broad way in
our definition of a lie. It includes not only words but
any acts that may be utilised by us to express, or even
to modify our expression of, our inner thought. Smiling,
nodding, a jocular tone of voice may all be used to
convey our meaning or part of our meaning, just as
well as words ; and, provided their significance is under-
stood by people generally, they have a claim to be
regarded as a substantive part of our speech, as adding
to, or modifying the literal sense of the words used.
When a lady of forty claims that she is twenty-two and
laughs whilst doing so, all sensible people understand
her meaning. Her laugh adds on the new statement —
" at least," to the words actually used. The statement
" it is a fine day," made when the rain is coming down
in torrents, gets a new meaning from the circumstances.
The very absurdity of the situation may be accepted as
giving a new meaning to our words.* Such statements,
therefore, are not lies. Taken in their completeness,
i.e. words, acts and circumstances being all included,
they do not oppose the speaker's mind.
We repeat, therefore, that any statement which,
while purporting to represent our mind to another.
• The absurdity of the statement is not always to be regarded as
altcririK the meaning of our words, and as saving our statement from
the guilt of lying. If such were the case there would be no such
thing as lying to foolish people or " Hats." If our statement, which,
taken literally, is false, is to be saved from lying, the circumstances
and the absurdity of the situation must " speak " to both the parties
concerned, and not merely to the person who, makes the statement.
A MAN'S DUTIES 73
represents the opposite of our mind or belief, comes
within our definition of a lie.
(d) Which yet the speaker knows to be untrue. There
is no difficulty in understanding this last clause con-
sidered in itself. But the interesting question arises
whether the lie, besides including all cases of statements
known to be untrue, includes also statements not known
to be true. There is a very great difference between
making a statement which is known to be untrue, and
making a statement not knowing whether it is true or
untrue. Is this latter kind of statement a lie ?
Obviously it has not been expressly included in our'
definition, nor do we wish any expression of opinion
that is given here to prejudice the discussion to follow.
But we may record our opinion that even in the second
kind of statement mentioned, the opposition between
thought and speech, which we found to be the essential
element of the lie, is present in sufficient degree to bring
such statement within the category of lying. When a
man makes the statement " x is in London," whereas,
as a matter of fact, he has no idea whether x is in London
or Dublin, there is conscious opposition between the
expression used and the thought of the speaker, or the
world of reality as understood by the speaker. Even
if X should happen to be in London, the expression
used, though it does not contradict the fact, yet does
contradict the speaker's mind about the fact. The
expression used is equivalent to, and is understood by
all to mean " the presence of x in London is the fact as
known to me," whereas as a matter of fact the presence
of X in London is unknown. The expression used pur-
ports to represent a positive mentality in the speaker,
whereas the speaker's mind is purely negative. He has
no mind on the question. All speech purports to repre-
sent the world of reality * as understood by the speaker.
If the statement made accords with this mentality
there is no lie : if it does not the expression is a lie.
* or, rather, a particular portion of the world of reality.
74 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Hence saying what one does not know to be true would
seem to fall within our definition of the lie.
This lengthened discussion as to a mere definition
will perhaps be considered superfluous and aiming at
over-correctness. We have, however, been induced to
pursue it, because of the many kinds of serious mis-
understanding to which St. Thomas' brief definition
exposes him. For the discussion that follows, however,
it will not be necessary to take account of all the
distinctions we have given. In proving the evil of
lying we shall confine our attention to the most ordinary
case of lying, i.e. saying in words and under ordinary
circumstances what we know to be untrue. As we
said before, it matters very little what we agree to
include in or exclude from the definition of the word
" lie." The main interest of the moralist centres round
the question whether consciously making a false state-
ment, whatever the name by which it goes, is, or is not,
in itself an evil act.
II. THE WRONGFULNESS OF LYING
We now go on to show that the lie is intrinsically
unnatural and bad. Some writers attempt to base the
evil of lying upon the consequences that it produces —
misunderstandings, danger to contracts, etc. But these
consequences do not constitute the essential and funda-
mental evil in lying — they are a resultant evil only.
If the evil of lying consisted in its consequences only,
a lie would be lawful in any case in which the speaker
could guard against these consequences * — a conclusion
which will hardly recommend itself to the acceptance
of even the least exacting of consciences.
The consequences of lying are genuine evils, but they
are extrinsic to the act. Besides this extrinsic element,
however, there is an intrinsic element also, an intrinsic
• See Vol. I. p. 292.
A MAN'S DUTIES 75
" inordinateness," to use St. Thomas' words, in the lie
itself, which places it in the category of things forbidden,
semper et -pro semper, in all circumstances, and inde-
pendently of its effects. This evil element is thus
described by St. Thomas :* " What is evil of its nature
can no wise be good and lawful ; because if a thing is
to be regarded as good, all that goes to make it up must
be good ; for goodness supposes soundness all round,
whereas any single defect makes a thing evil. But a
lie is evil of its nature for it is an act falling on undue
matter ; for since language is naturally the sign of
thought it is unnatural and undue to say in word what
one has not in his mind." The foregoing argument
makes certain assumptions which require to be ex-
plained.
The primary criterion of morals lies, as we saw, in
the natural objects or ends of the faculties. An}' act
in which a faculty is used for an end or object which
is opposed to its natural end or object is unnatural, and
being unnatural is morally bad. In regard, therefore,
to the lie, the question arises — what is the natural end
of speech or language ? St. Thomas answers in the
words — " since language is naturally the sign of thoughts
it is unnatural and undue to say in word what one has
not in his mind." Language is naturally the expression
of thought. If language does not represent thought
then what does it represent ? This is what all men
understand it to represent. Remove that understanding ;
let it be understood hy common agreement that when
a man says " ;v is y " neither he nor his listeners should
regard the expression as implying that this was also
the speaker's belief or thought, and in that case language
would have lost all meaning. It would neither convey
information nor deceive. Its function would be gone.
It could no longer be used as a means of communication
between man and man. It would not be language any
longer. Speech, therefore, has this as its essential
* " S. Theol.," Ila. 11:-^., ex. 3.
76 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
characteristic, viz, that from its own nature, and in
every act, it purports to represent a man's thoughts.
We may prevent it from doing so by telHng a he, but
even when we do so, of its nature, it carries with it this
imphcation, it purports to represent our thought.* And
consequently this being the inner, inseparable, and
natural implication of speech, the condition without
which language is not language and has no meaning,
its natural object and end must be to represent man's
thought. When by speaking falsely we frustrate speech
of its natural object, using it, not to represent our
thought, but the opposite of our thought, then speech
is an act falling on " undue matter " and is evil. The
lie, therefore, is of its nature evil.
We are now in a position to understand the principle
so clearly inculcated in the works of St. Thomas Aquinas
that the lie is bad independently of its effects. It is
bad, in the first place, whether it deceives another or
does not, and whether it is intended to deceive or is
not.f In most cases, of course, a man tells lies only to
deceive. But there are cases in which a man may have
no such intention. He may know that deception is
impossible, but still speak falsely for some other end,
e.g. so as to avoid making a certain admission. But
whatever his intention, the intention to deceive is not
essential to the lie. The intention to deceive belongs,
as St. Thomas says, not to the essence but to the " per-
fection " of the lie, J i.e. to its full effectiveness. It is
not an absolute requirement. It is an extrinsic effect,
not a part or constituent of the lie itself. Again, a
lie is bad whether the person addressed has a right to
know the truth or has not. " A lie," writes St. Thomas,
" has the character of sinfulness not only from the
injury which it inflicts on others but from its own
• As Bosan(|uct says : " The claim to be true is rooted iu our
assertions." (Phil. Theory of the State," p. 148).
t St. Augustine considered that the intention to deceive was of
the essence of lying and necessary to it.
J II. 11*., ex. I.
A MAN'S DUTIES 77
inordinateness." * It is bad from its very substance
and its intrinsic badness is prior to its evil effects — a
fact which should be evident from our ordinary con-
ception of the particular disgrace which attaches to lying.
For if a man has a right to know the truth, we violate
that right quite as effectively by keeping silence as by
telling an untruth. But when in addition to merely
witholding the truth we also proceed to tell a lie, the
whole world recognises a new disgrace in our act. We
have now not only denied to another his just rights but
we have incurred a special guilt with a special name.
We are not only unjust men but liars also. This universal
and instinctive method of viewing the lie confirms, we
claim, the view expressed in the present paragraph that
the lie has an inordinateness of its own, distinct from
its effects.
OF MENTAL RESTRICTIONS
Mental restrictions, properly so called, are not lies, and
of themselves are not evil. " Non est Hcitum," writes St.
Thomas, t " mendacium dicere ad hoc quod aliquis alium a
quocumque periculo liberet : licet tamen veritatem occultare
prudenter sub aliqua dissimulatione." There is no untruth
unless the words are opposed to the mind of the speaker.
Now a speaker may employ a form of words which, whilst
effectively conceahng his thought, or rather whilst not
revealing it, yet in no way can be said to oppose his thought ;
such a form of words does not fall under the category of
the lie.
When a question is put to a man, he may, if he does not
wish to give the required information, do either of two
things. On the one hand, he may remain silent or rebuke
the questioner, or say that he refuses to answer ; on the
other hand, he may reply by an ambiguous expression, which,
intended in one sense opposes the speaker's mind, intended
in the other does not. Naturally a speaker who wishes at
once to be truthful and yet to conceal his opinions intends
*I1. II«., ex. 3, ad. 4.
t 11. II- , ex. 3, ad. 4.
78 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
his words in the latter sense, and if this is really a legitimate
sense, then, no matter how his words are understood by those
to whom they are addressed, the guih of the he is not incurred.
Such answers are known as mental restrictions, because they
are statements in which the speaker intends his words in a
restricted sense, in one meaning out of the many which they
are capable of bearing. Thus the master of a house who does
not desire to interview his visitors gives orders to his servants
to say that he is not at home. Now " not at home " bears
two senses for people who are in the habit of visiting. It may
mean " out," or it may mean " not receiving visitors," and
if the words are intended in the second sense the expression
accords with the speaker's knowledge of the facts, and
consequently there is no lie.
In all cases of lawful mental restriction it is supposed
that the words used really bear the meaning intended, the
meaning in the sense of which they are true. If they do
not legitimately bear this meaning, if in the common under-
standing (at least in the understanding of the class of persons
concerned in the conversation) this meaning is impossible or
absurd, in other words, if the meaning intended, and in which
•alone the words are true, exists in the mind of the speaker
only, and not in the words themselves, then the restriction
intended is purely mental, and the statement is simply a lie.*
Thus, if a man when questioned as to whether he had fired
a shot into the street answers that he did not, meaning that
he did not fire it of his own accord, that he was induced to
do so by another, such person makes use of a restriction
which is purely mental. No sensible person would regard
the words " I did not fire " as capable of bearing such a
meaning. This meaning, therefore, does not reside in the
expression used, but only in the mind of the speaker.
Consequently, in the only sense in which the words can be
understood, they oppose the mind of the speaker and
constitute a lie.
The use of mental restrictions is not without its dangers.
It is easy to transgress the bounds of veracious statement
by attempting to use words in restricted meanings, for often
• Hence the distinction between restrictions broadly mental aftd
purely mental. In the first case it is supposed that the sense intended
by the speaker, the sense which justilies the use of the statement, not
only exists in the speaker's mind, but genuinely attaches to the words
also. In the second case the meaning intended is supT)osed to dwell
in the mind of the speaker only. The former kind of restriction is
lawful, the latter unlawful.
A MAN'S DUTIES 79
such meanings do not genuinely attach to them. Besides,
a hahit of using mental restrictions is likely to create a
facihty in imagining as possible what really are impossible
meanings, and often leads to the formation of a lax conscience
in the matter of speaking the truth. Very cute and over-
careful people who take a dehght in hiding their thoughts
from others, are Ukely to become too venturesome in the
use of mental restrictions, and often in this way come to
be regarded as, and to be, liars.
CHAPTER III
OUR DUTIES TOWARDS OTHERS
{Continued)
On Justice
general observations
In an earlier chapter of this work we defined justice,
■ regarded as a special virtue,* as that virtue which
i inclines a man to give every one his own. It is essentially
i a social virtue regulating our relations with the rest of
society. The virtue of charity also takes account of
our relations with others ; but whereas charity imposes
on us obligations towards other men which are based
on the fact that others are one with us in human nature,
in blood, in nationhood, or in some other common
possession, justice takes account of the opposite of this,
viz. our independence of one another, our claims as
against one another, our distinction, our " otherness "
as persons. It is essentially a virtue ad alterum.
Now justice relations arise in society in two ways : |
first, as a part or member of society each has certain
justice relations to the whole of which he is a part ;
secondly, he has certain justice relations to the other
parts considered as parts. Distributive justice regulates
the first class of relations, commutative justice the
second class. Distributive justice inclines a ruler as
representing the whole of society to distribute the public
* In a wide sense; the word " justice " is sometimes used to sif^nify
" what accords with law." In this sense it is spoken of as general
justice, and is the equivalent of " all virtue." But there is a special
justice also.
t "S. Thcol.," II. II'., LXI. I.
80
OUR DUTIES 8i
goods, such as public money, political honours, positions
in the public service, etc., in a just manner, without
favouritism, and without injury to the common good ;
also to abstain from placing unjust burdens, by way of
taxation, on any particular class in the community.
Commutative justice regulates the actions of each
member of society in regard to the others considered
as mere parts. Also it regulates our dealings with one
another, not in regard to public moneys, but to private
possessions.
The limits of our space, as well as the scope of the
present work, forbid any discussion on problems of
distributive justice, most of which are considered in
the special science of Political Economy. The problems
in justice that are to be considered in the present work
are all problems of commutative justice.
COMMUTATIVE JUSTICE — ITS GROUND
Justice, like ever}^ other virtue, is based on the relation
of men to their final end. A man is bound to attain his
natural final end. This he does by aiming at his own
natural perfection. He is, therefore, under an obligation
to aim at his natural perfection.* Being under an
obligation to attain this end, he has a right to the means 1
that lead to this end. And his right extends not only
to the things that are absolutely necessary for this end
but to all the means that are supplied by nature, and
that promote it in any way, provided that in taking
these means he does not interfere with the rights of
other people. A man has a right to eat or run or walk
or talk or open a business, but he must not, in the exer-
cise of his right, interfere with other persons.
We have distinguished means that are absolutely neces-
sarv for one's end, and means that are not necessary
but that promote this end. To both classes of means
* in some degree.
VOL. II — 6
82 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
men have rights, for nature supplies her goods that
they may be used for man's perfection. But there is
a difference in our rights to these two classes of things.
To those means that are absolutely necessary, e.g. the
food necessary to life, man has an absolutely inde-
feasible right, a right which cannot be defeated by any
human law. To the rest he has a right, but it is a right
that can be defeated by the civil law if the good of
society so requires : and even if not defeated wholly,
it is a right that is largely subject to compromise, in
which way only is it possible in certain cases to har-
monise the competing rights of different people.* In
general, then, it may be said that in proportion as
things are necessary for a man's natural perfection
and final end, one's right to these things is absolute
and indefeasible.
From this it will be seen that in the order of nature
j the law of justice is a law of equality, that all men are
' possessed of equal rights, in the sense that they all
have the same final end, and the rights of men are
determined by that end. In the order of nature, and
considering men as human beings only, as persons, and
apart from other conditions to be mentioned presently,
the rights of men are equal. As a person, no man i&
mere means to another, the end of all being the same.
Human beings, as human beings, are all possessed of
y' equal initial rights.
What is meant by this condition of initial equality
and how it gives place by natural law to later inequality
can be seen by an example. If twenty men, standing
in no other relation to one another but the relation
of man to man,t happened to be cast on a desert island
not one of these men would at the beginning have
superior rights to the others in regard to life or property.
But soon this initial law of equality would be succeeded
by a condition of actual inequality, or, rather, woukl
• How inequalities arise in men's rights will presently be seen.
I l-atlur and son would have differttnt rights.
OUR DUTIES 83
itself give rise to such a condition. For in the first place
an equal division of property having been made it would
soon transpire that the superior strength, energy and
ability of one man enabled him to use his property to
greater effect than the others, and to the surplusage of
the fruits accruing to him over the amount accruing to
the others he would have a full natural right. Then,
later, we might imagine a further influx of persons into
the island, and families being founded, and property
transmitted, and in a brief period the original condition
of equality obtaining in that small community would
be completely eclipsed by the subsequent inequalities.
These inequalities would be created by the unequal
capacities, energies, and opportunities of the original
inhabitants, and also by the exercise of their rights by
other persons, for instance, their right to set up such
businesses as in no way interfered with the rights of
the original inhabitants. And it is important to point
out that this condition of inequality in possessions would
be quite in harmony with the original law of equality
dictated by nature, and would itself arise out of the
free exercise of men's equal initial rights ; also that to
disturb any man in his possessions, even though they
happened to be greater than those of others, would be
to violate and defeat that very law of equality whereby
each in the beginning was made owner of all that he
could produce by the exercise of his own capacities.
By leaving each man in his possessions, therefore, we
maintain the equality required by justice : for which
reason Aristotle explains that the end of justice is to
maintain or restore equality not in the sense that all
should have equal amounts but that men should be
left with all that they have justly acquired, and that
if this balance happens to be disturbed it should be
restored.
In a second way also inequalities would supervene
upon the original condition of equality, and without
doing violence to that condition. For a group of men
84 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
could not long continue to work together without feeling
the need of some ruling authority to settle disputes and
to combat disorder when it arose, and so they would
appoint * one of themselves to rule over them either
permanently or temporarily, or each acting in turn, all
being equally eligible for the position, but some being
more suited to rule than others ; and thus beside
inequalit}- of possession, there would arise juridical
inequality, or inequalily iii--j»ling-^uthorTty ; and this
inequality would itself be consonant with, and a re-
sultant of, the equal rights of all, for it would accord
with the wishes of all. each being anxious to exercise
his rights in peace, and, therefore, under a rule that
preserved and guaranteed justice and order. Inequali-
ties, therefore, arise not only through the unequal
talents, energies and opportunities of different individ-
uals, but through the exigencies of^ the social body as
such. But these inequalities in no way contravene the
natural and original equality of the rights of all men as
men, or as persons.
In the present chapter we have nothing to do with
the relations of ruler and subject. These relations will
come before us in a later chapter on the State. Our
present discussion relates only to a man's rights to
his possessions, and in this respect we now go on to
speak of the etid of commutative justice.
COMMUTATIVE JUSTICE — ITS END
All justice, whether distributive or commutative, aim
at establishing equality, not, as has just been said, in
the sense that all men should have equal amounts,
but that each man should get what he has a right to,
and that if any man holds that to which he has no right
• This is not the only rightful way in which a ruling authority
appears in society. It is not even the original way as will be seen
later in our discussion on the origin of the State. Wc arc here dis-
cussing only a particular case.
OUR DUTIES 85
the balance required by law should be restored. But
the kind of equality at which distributive justice aims is
different from that which is effected by commutative
justice. Distributive justice aims at equality of pro-
portion * — at giving to each according to the worth of
each, the better positions and the higher salaries going
to those persons who are cleverer, more industrious, and
of greater value to the State. Commutative justice
takes no account of the worth of persons, in the sense
that, in deciding what one man should pay another, it
treats the parties as men only, as equals, and decrees
that if a man has wrongfully been deprived of his pos-
sessions they should be restored to him, and in full,
no matter what his position, character, or worth. " It
makes no difference," says Aristotle, writing of com-
mutative justice,! " whether a good man defrauds a
bad one or a bad man a good one . . . the law looks
♦ " Nich. Eth.," V. 3, 8. Aristotle is here speaking of distributive
justice in which connection he gives the following formula : if ' a '
represents one individual (or rather his worth), ' b ' the worth of
another, and ' c ' and ' d ' are the respective amounts due to them by
the State, then ^ = 4. Of this formula Aristotle also gives an interest-
ing variant showing how the position of the parties after distribution
(i.e., the person plus the goods received) corresponds with their
respective degrees of worth or merit before, viz., |t|=^- In
commutative justice, on the other hand, ' a ' and ' t, ' are treated
as equal and, therefore, the problem that confronts us here is the
relatively simple one of restoring or maintaining the balance in things
without respect of persons. Commutative justice deals with ' c ' and
' d ' only.
In V. 4, 3 Aristotle speaks of distributive justice as aiming at
geometrical proportion, whilst commutative justice is said to aim at
arithmetical proportion. The latter expression is not well chosen,
its only justification being that in a certain class of problem commu-
tative justice corresponds with the arithmetical mean between two
numbers. Thus if two men have five pounds each, and one steals
a pound from the other, their respective possessions are now six and
four pounds. Commutative justice requires the re-establishment
of the original position which is represented by the arithmetical
mean of the two sums. The series 4, 5, 6, Aristotle here speaks of
as an arithmetical proportion. Moderns call it an arithmetical pro-
gression. In contrasting, therefore, distributive and commutative
justice it is better to speak of the former, as Aristotle does in more
than one place, as aiming at proportional equality. Commutative
justice may then be said to aim at simple, or absolute equality.
t " Nich. Eth.," V. 4, 3.
«6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
■only to the difference created by the injury, treating the
parties themselves as equal and only asking whether the
one has done and the other suffered injury or damage."
We now go on to speak of some problems in com-
mutative justice. A man can suffer injustice in three
ways — in his person (as by assault), in his character
(as by detraction), and in his property (as by robbery).
We shall treat of the more fundamental problems arising
under each of these headings, devoting the remainder
of the present chapter to injuries to the person and to
character : injuries to property will be considered in
several chapters to follow.
The first set of problems, i.e. injuries to the human
person, is best introduced by a discussion of the
question :
WHETHER IT IS LA\VFUL TO KILL ANIMALS ?
Our position is that it is lawful to kill animals, and
for the following reasons : —
(a) Animals are not possessed of rights, and, therefore
in killing them no injustice is done to them. Our state-
ment that animals have no rights and that no injustice
can be done them will appear strange to readers who
meet it for the first time, and will also seem to lead to
consequences that are generally repudiated by sensible
and feeling men. But a little consideration will show
that our contention is far from unreasonable either in
itself or in its consequences. Right, as we saw,* is a
moral relation, holding between moral persons only,
between rational beings. Right is a very different
thing from physical force or a physical fact. To have
a right to a thing means that it ought to be given to one
or left in one's possession, and this " ought " and its
correlative right may still remain, even though the
• Vol. I. p. <)3^.
OUR DUTIES 87
object is not and never shall be actually in the possession
of its owner. Right, therefore, so far from being a
physical fact of any kind, expresses a moral relation,
which only a rational being is capable of understanding,
and which obtains in the sphere of reason and rational
beings only. Only a rational being is capable of under-
standing the conception of " oughtness." And, there-
fore, since animals are not possessed of reason and are
not moral persons, they lie outside the sphere within
which rights obtain.
These propositions we have established in an earlier
chapter of this work, and our proofs need not be re-
peated at this point. But we may here be allowed
to mention, as an indication of how far removed animals
are from the order within which rights obtain, the fact
that an animal from its very nature is incapable of
claiming anything as its own. An animal may use
claws and teeth to hold what it has, but it cannot claim
anything as its own, either externally, by an outward
expression of its will, or internally by any mental act.
For claiming is an act of reason and it relates to an ob-
ject which, as we have said, the animal is wholly in-
capable of conceiving, viz. that something belongs to
it, that is, that something ought to be left in its posses-
sion, that it has a right to something. Being incapable
therefore, of an act of claim, incapable, i.e. not merely
now hut for all time, it cannot be regarded as having
rights. Right and the power to claim what is one's
right are inseparable conceptions. Children and idiots
may, indeed, be incapable of actually claiming what is
theirs. But they possess at least the faculty by which
claims are made, viz. reason. Animals do not possess
the faculty of claiming. Therefore, they do not come
within the world of rights.
Nor does the admission of this principle that animals
have no rights embarrass us by the conclusions to which
it leads. Though animals have not rights, and we
have no duties to or towards animals, we 3'et may have
88 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
duties about or concerning them, duties to their Supreme
Owner, all of whose creatures must be used according
to reason. What the extent of our rights is, and what
the restrictions placed upon our liberty in regard to
animals, will be seen in the course of the present chapter.
As animals, therefore, have not rights, it cannot be
an injustice to kill them.
(b) Animals exist for man. It is highly necessary
that we should have a right sense of the meaning of
this important proposition, which is often misunder-
stood. When we say that animals exist for man our
direct meaning is not, as is commonly stated, that the
Creator had no other purpose in His mind than that
they should serve men, and that they would never
have been brought into existence had man not been
created. What reference our present principle bears
to the mind of the Creator will be seen at the end of
this section. But, directly and immediately, all that we
mean when we say that animals exist for man, is that in
the natural order the less perfect is always used, and
graded, as means to the more perfect ; and since animals
are of a lower and less perfect order of nature than men,
they exist in nature as means to man.
In showing how nature in all cases subordinates the
less perfect to the more perfect, using the former as
means to the latter, St. Thomas makes use of an illustra-
tion which, to our mind, is really more than an illustra-
tion, for it furnishes independent proof of the special
position which the inorganic, the vegetable, and the
animal world occupy in the scheme of natural things in
relation to man. In the first place St. Thomas makes
reference to a well-known and indeed obvious principle
of growth (gencraiio) or evolution, a principle that follows
from the very meaning of growth, viz. that in the pro-
cess of growth each earlier stage subserves and is means
to the accomplishment of the next later, and that the
whole group of stages is means to the final product.
The seed is means to the young plant, the growing root
OUR DUTIES 89
and stem are means to the fully developed tree.* Now
this principle holds good for everything that is subject
to natural growth, but St. Thomas considers it in special
connection with the growth of the human embryo, i.e.
with man himself in his becoming. The human embryo f
is at first a living object, a plant, one, no doubt, which
nature endows with special potentialities, but still, so
far as nature, form, and actual capacities are concerned,
a plant. Later, this same embryo reaches the animal
stage : it becomes endowed with the structure, powers,
and qualities that belong to the animal nature. Finally,
the crown and flower of the whole progressive series
appears : that which was a plant and animal becomes a
human being. In this process of development each
earlier stage is but a means to, and exists for the sake
of, each later and higher stage. Plant-life is by nature
made to serve as means to animal, animal as means to
man. Hence, taking a wide survey of the order and
economy of nature, we find that nature herself ordains
the vegetative and animal kingdoms to serve as means
to man.
An argument of less importance than that which pre-
cedes, but on which Aristotle principall}^ relies in estab-
• From which we conclude not only that this seed is means to this
tree, but that the seed species is means to the tree species ; so also it
will follow from St. Thomas' argument that the plant and animal
species are means to the human species.
f We are here only expanding the broad and careful, though brief,
exposition of the natural law as given in " S. Thcol.," II. II*., LXIV. i.
" In generationis via," St. Thomas writes, " natura ab imperfcctis
ad perfecta procedit, et inde est quod, sicut in generatione hominis,
prius est vivum, deinde animal, ultimo autem homo, ita etiam ea
quae tantum vivunt ut plantae sunt communiter propter animalia ;
omnia autem animalia sunt propter homintm ; et ideo si homo utatur
plantis ad utilitatcm animalium et animalibus ad utilitatem hominum,
non est illicitum." Notice- that St. Thomas docs not represent the
embryo in its first stage as merely a plant or merely living, but as a
living thing. In fact he contrasts it with other plants " quae tantum
vivunt." The fact that the early embryo in the course of its growth
is found at length to transcend the plant nature, and to become an
animal, shows that in the beginning it is not a mere plant, that it is
a plant endowed with special potentialities in virtue of which it grows
into an animal. In the same way in its second state the embryo is
not merely an animal. It is all through potentially a man.
90 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
lishing the view that animals exist for man, is to be
found in the fact that nature provides meil with organs
and capacities for the use of the inferior orders of things,
and thus indicates her intention that they should be
'used by men. Not only has nature provided man with
organs for obtaining, eating, digesting, and assimilating
vegetable and animal food, whereby almost exclusively
we live, but she has also provided the gift of reason
whereby these inferior things are put to innumerable
other uses, which uses constitute a great part of what is
included in, as well as being indispensable to, natural
human development. These inferior things serve for
purposes of " clothing and various instruments," * as
means to amusement, travel, industry, art, and other
human pursuits. Now, if we may not use the inferior
species as means to human progress, our capacities for
using them have been given to us in vain. And, there-
fore, " since nature makes nothing incomplete," writes
Aristotle, " and nothing in vain, the inference must
be that she has made all animals and plants for man."
The natural law, therefore, ordains both animal and
plant for the use of man, and as means to man. But
we saw in a preceding chapter f that the natural law
is a reflection of the eternal law of God from whom all
nature proceeds. And hence we are empowered to
draw the conclusion that the Author of nature as well
as nature herself ordains the inferior creatures for our
use. We may, therefore, kill animals for the sake of
some human purpose.
(c) Animals arc naturally slavcs-X That which is not
self-directive, naturally lies in the control of another.
Now animals are not self-directive, self-determined, but
are moved either by some outer force or some inner
impulse which they do not themselves initiate and
• " Politics," I. 6. In these brief words Aristotle includes all the
uses which it is possible to make of the lower creation.
t Vol. I. ch. xix.
J ihc expression occurs in Aristotle, " ]*oIilics," I
OUR DUTIES 91
which they cannot control. They are thus, as St.
Thomas remarks, always " moved as it were by some-
thing else."* But man is a person, self-directive, sui
iuris, propter seipsum existens.\ Into whose hands,
therefore, is the animal world entrusted if not into his ?
From all this it follows that in the order of nature
man is justified in using the lower animals as means to
human progress or welfare ; and that he is justified
even to the extent of killing them if killing is necessary
or even contributory to human welfare. J
But the same principle which justifies us in using
animals for purposes of human welfare or development
also fixes the limits of our rights in their regard. Our
use of animals, as of all things else, must be rational,
i.e. it must really serve some useful human purpose,
some true human good. In this respect it would be
wrong to take a narrow view of what it is that con-
stitutes a true human good, for in our dealings with
animals, even more than in our dealings with men, it is
a good thing to widen the sphere of human liberty to
the extremest limits which the law allows. Accordingly
we may say that it is our right to use animals for any
end which in the judgment of ordinar}^ men would be
regarded as a part of human welfare. Animals, for
instance, may be killed in the hunt for the pleasure
afforded by hunting, but they may not be tortured for
the mere pleasure of witnessing their pain and em-
barrassment. The former contributes to health and
well-being, the latter confers on men no good of any
kind. It is nothing more than an exercise of cruelt}',
the gratification of a perverted instinct for pleasure.
* " S. Theol.," LXIV. 2.
t " S. Theol.," LXIV. 2, ad 3.
X St. Thomas regards killing as the most obvious right of all. If
you may lawfully use them, he writes, you may lawfully eat them ;
and then adds naively, " and eating involves killing."
92 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and, besides, it disposes men to cruelty not only with
animals but with human beings also. The torture of
animals is not indeed a violation of the rights of animals,
for, as we saw, animals do not fall within the sphere of
moral rights : but it is a violation of our rational human
nature and of the precept of the Author of our nature
that human acts should be done according to reason.
An interesting question arises in connection with our
present discussion on man's rights in regard to animals,
viz. the question of Vivisection, i.e. the dissection of
the living animal for the purpose of demonstrating some
fact or law of science. Vivisection is lawful because it
promotes knowledge, and knowledge is a true human
" good." But in vivisection it is possible to exceed
our rights since there are some kinds of, and some
circumstances attendant on, vivisection that in no way
contribute to any useful human purpose. Thus the
needless infliction of pain is unlawful since what is
needless is not contributory to the purpose in view.
The chloroforming of animals in vivisection is not in
general required by the moral law, since often such a
precaution would be gravely inconvenient to the work
of research, but where the use of an anaesthetic is in
no way prejudicial to the work of the scientist the
benefit of a painless dissection should be extended to
the animal.
A principle to be remembered in this connection is
that the degree of latitude allowed in inflicting pain is
to some extent to be measured by the degree of good
which ensues from the experiment which is made. In
actual investigation it would be difficult to regard any
degree of pain as forbidden if taking precautions against
it would cause inconvenience in one's work, since pro-
gress in science depends almost wholly on investigation.
In the lecture hall, on the other hand, one should not
inflict more pain than is really required for purposes oL
clear illustration.
OUR DUTIES 93
On Personal Injuries
We shall consider six questions under this heading : —
Whether it is lawful to put criminals to death ?
Whether it is lawful directly to put an innocent man
to death ?
Whether it is lawful to kill in self-defence ?
Whether accidental killing is a crime ?
Whether duelling is lawful ?
Whether it is lawful to interfere with a man's liberty ?
I. WHETHER IT IS LAWFUL TO PUT CRIMINALS TO DEATH ?
We think it well to quote the words of St. Thomas
Aquinas in answer to this question.
" It is lawful to kill brute animals in as much as they are
naturally meant for the service of man, the imperfect being
a means to the perfect ; now every part is referred to its
whole as the imperfect to the perfect ; and, therefore, every
part naturally exists for the whole (as means to its reaUsa-
tion). Hence we see that if it be expedient for the welfare
of the whole body that some member should be amputated
by reason of its being bad and corruptive of the rest of the
body, the removal of that member is praiseworthy and
salutary. But every individual person is related to the
whole community as part to whole ; and hence if any man
be dangerous to the community and is corrupting it by
reason of some crime then it is right and wholesome that
he should be put to death for the sake of the common good."*
This argument brings us a certain distance on our
way, but it requires to be supplemented by another which
is also to be found in St. Thomas' work. No doubt the
reason why a criminal may be put to death is because
he is a corrupt member of society, and through him the
whole community is injured. But still we are left face
to face with the difficulty that a human being even
when he commits a crime does not cease to be a human
being. Now, as we saw before, t a human being though
he is naturally a member of society, is not to be regarded
* •• S. TheoL," II. II*., Q. LXIV. Art. 2.
t Vol. I. p. 334.
94 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
as a mere member, or a mere part, and though as part
he is a means he is not a mere means to society. On
the contrarj', he is a person, sui juris and as St. Thomas
declares, " propter seipsum existens," * in the sense that
he is not a mere means to anything else in nature. But
by putting a criminal to death for the common good,,
society treats him as a mere means, as a mere member
of the organism, to be sacrificed for the good of the
organism. How is this possible ?
We answer — it is as a rational being that man is a
person, sui juris, "propter seipsum existens," and not
a mere means to anything else. But by offending
against the law of reason man withdraws himself from
the order of reason, falls below that order ; and society
is empowered to withhold from such an individual the
rights of an independent person, treating him as a
mere part of society, and may for the sake of the com-
mon good put him to death.
In this deep and far-reaching answer we are given the
reason not only why a criminal may be put to death,
but why also an innocent man whose life is a menace
to society (for instance because he is diseased in body,,
or because a foreign ruler has decreed to destroy the
whole community if a certain innocent man is not put
to death) must still be treated as one who has a right to.
his life. Such a one has not receded from the order
of reason, and, therefore, he still retains the privileges
of a rational being, and cannot be treated as a mere
means to the community in which he resides. He
cannot, therefore, be sacrificed for the good of the
community by being put to death.
St. Thomas merely lays down the abstract principle
that a criminal may be put to death because as a diseased
member he is corruptive of the whole of which he is a
part. He docs not say in what cases he may be put
to death. There is really no general rule assignable^
and the cases in which society will put a subject to
• y. LXIV , \r\. -1, ad 3
OUR DUTIES 95
death will vary with the temperament and traditions of
peoples and the needs of States. Two things, however,
may be noted in this respect. One is that a subject can
only be punished for an external act ; for it is through
their external acts that men communicate with their
fellow-men, and act as part of the community.
Another is that even though now-a-days States will
only put a man to death for crimes which manifestly
and directly affect other parts of the community, e.g.
murder, still this prerogative of the State could be exer-
cised even where the direct effects of the crime which
is committed do not extend to other individuals, where,
in other words, the crime is private and where the only
effect on society is that a part of it (the offending
member) has gone bad. A corrupt member, even though
its corruption does not extend outside itself, is a derogation
to the dignity and worth of the whole bodj' politic.
Only the public authority can inflict death. For the
killing of a criminal is lawful only in as much as it ia
directed to the welfare of the whole community ; from
which it follows that the infliction of death appertains
to him only who has charge of the welfare of the com-
munity, just as the amputation of a limb is performed
by the surgeon to whom is committed the welfare of
the whole body, or by another deputed by him. Now
it is to the public authority that the care of the com-
munity is entrusted, and, therefore, only the public
authority or some one commissioned by that authority
may lawfully put a person to death.
Also, a particular individual, when ccmmissicned by
public authority to put a criminal to death, can do sa
only as representing public authority and the whole
community. It would not be lawful for him, even
when so commissioned, to slay a criminal for any private
end such as vengeance. By harbouring such an in-
tention he would incur, internally at least, the guilt of
homicide.
96 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
2. WHETHER IT IS LAWFUL TO PUT AN INNOCENT MAN TO
DEATH
Unlike the animal, the innocent man is possessed of
reason, and unlike the criminal, he retains all the
privileges of a rational being, not having forfeited them
by violating some precept of reason. The innocent man,
therefore, is in a position the exact opposite of the
world of animals, and must be regarded and treated as
such. The animal is not possessed of rights, the
innocent man has rights which cannot be violated
without sin, and one of his first and most fundamental
rights is that he he not used as mere means to any other
person or to society. Having the same natural faculties
as other men, he has the same final end, since it is from
the natural faculties which a thing possesses that we
determine its natural end. Having the same end then
as other men and as society itself,* an end, as we saw,
which is beyond all individuals and beyond society,
the individual man cannot be treated as mere means to
other men or to society. " Being furnished," writes
Locke, f " with like faculties, sharing all in one com-
munity of nature, there cannot be supposed any such
subordination among us that may authorise us to
destroy one another, as if we were made for one another's
uses as the inferior ranks of creatures are for ours."'
But to kill or injure a man is to subject him to yourself,
to treat him as means to your own interest, complacency,
or purpose, and is unlawful.
Again, the innocent man is a person, self-directive,
sui juris, propter seipsum cxistens, and not a mere instru-
ment in the control of another. He cannot, therefore,
be treated as a mere thing to be handled as society
desires.
Finally, the only reason why it is competent for
flociety to put a man to death is that such a one is evil
and corruptive of the whole to which he belongs. But
• Vol. I. p. 334.
f Second of the Treatises on Govcrnmont, ch. 2.
OUR DUTIES 97
the innocent man, no matter what may be his physical
defects, and even though these physical defects are a
menace to society, is, in the rational and human order,
the order which makes society what it is and gives it
its authority and its meaning, to be regarded as good
and sound, and, therefore, society has no authority to
put him to death. " The slaying of the sinner," writes
St. Thomas,* " becomes lawful in reference to the good
of the community that is destroyed by sin. On the
other hand the life of the just makes for the preserva-
tion and promotion of the community, seeing that they
are the worthier part of the people. And, therefore, it
is in no wise lawful to kill the innocent."
3. ON KILLING IN SELF-DEFENCE
Our present question concerns the killing of an unjust
aggressor, of one who without rightful authorisation
makes an attempt on another's life. May I kill an
unjust aggressor in self-defence ?
We answer — it is never lawful for a private person
directly f to aim at the death of another, whether as
an end in itself or as a means to some good. No private
individual has authority over the life of another person,
and, therefore, to aim directly at encompassing the
death of another is a grave crime. It is wrong to aim
at the death of another as an end in itself, because it
is wrong for the will to desire as an end what is in-
trinsically against natural law : and it is wrong to aim
at it as a means, because, no matter how laudatory the
end may be, it cannot justify a means which is essentially
a violation of the law. Even, therefore, though our
life is being assailed by another person unjustly it would
be wrong to aim directly at the death of the aggressor
as a means to preserving our own life. An act, as we
• " S. TheoL," II. II»., LXIV. 6
t Our doctrine here is expressly opposed to that of Card, de Lugo
(" De Just, et Jure," X. VI. 149) who maintains that if the death of
the aggressor were necessary in order to save one's own life his death
could be willed directly.
VOL. n — 7
98 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
said, which is essentially and intrinsically wrong cannot
be willed even as a means to saving our own life.
It will be said — but does not the man who unjustly
makes an attempt on the life of another forfeit his life
to that other — does he not place his own life at the
disposal of the person whom he attacks, and, therefore,
may the person attacked not aim at the death of the
aggressor ? Our reply is that no man is empowered to
forfeit his life to another, to place it at his disposal.
No man has such a right over his own life as that he
can take it away : and, therefore, he cannot confer this
right on another. We cannot, therefore, aim directly *
at the death even of an unjust aggressor.
But though it is not lawful to aim directly at the
death of an unjust aggressor, it is lawful to encompass
his death indirectly, i.e. whilst not aiming at his death,
to do an act which secures my own life, but from which
his death follows as a consequence.
The reader is already familiar with the problem
whether it is ever lawful to cause evil indirectly. In an
early chapter of this work it was seen that it is lawful
to do an act from which two sets of consequences follow,,
one good and one bad, provided the bad consequences
are not directly intended or desired. f Thus it is lawful
for a man to invent or set up a new machine even though
some may lose their employment as a consequence. It
is lawful to set up a rival business even though grave
losses must be sustained by other firms.
Now the killing which is done in self-defence is indirect
only, and, therefore, it is not unlawful. The moral
character of an act, says St. Thomas, is determined by
the object aimed at { and not by something which ia
* The reader should realise fully that one is said to aim directly
at an object, not only when he desires it as an end for its own sake,,
but also when he desires it as a means, if 1 kill a man m orrier 1o
get money, the killing is no less direct than when I kill lor the sake
of killing.
t See Vol. T., ch. 2. There are other conditions necessary also ;
they will be enumerated, p. loi,
X Either as end or as means.
OUR DUTIES 99
beside one's intention. But in self-defence we aim at
one thing only, viz. preserving our own life, and, as
means to this, stopping the charge which is being made
upon us. That end and that means being legitimate
our act is legitimate. It is not rendered unlawful by
the fact that as a consequence of our action the aggressor
meets with his death.
The central and essential proof of the lawfulness of
killing in self-defence consists in showing that such
killing is indirect only, that the death of the aggressor
is not aimed at, but is beside the intention of the agent.
The death of the aggressor which occurs in self-defence
is aimed at neither as end nor as means, and there is
no other way in which a thing can be aimed at or directly
intended. It is not desired as an end, for in itself the
death of the aggressor is regarded as a grave misfortune.
What is aimed at as an end is the preservation of our
own life. The death of the aggressor is not aimed at
as a means to preserving our life, for the means by
which we secure this end is effectively stopping the move-
ment directed against us, or producing quiescence in the
aggressor. This is all that could ever be necessary to
put an end to the aggression and to save the life of the
person attacked. Death as such * could never be
necessary. Let quiescence be secured, and the attack
must of necessity come to a close. The death of the
aggressor, therefore, is not intended as a means.
It will be said — but is not the death of the aggressor
the means chosen to produce this quiescence and, there-
fore, it is not willed directly as a means ? We answer —
the death of the aggressor is not the means chosen for
this end. The means chosen consists of a thrust or a
• In this fact we have an additional proof that the direct killing
of the aggressor is never lawful. Card, de Lugo maintained that if
the death of the aggressor were necessary in order to save one's life
it would be lawful to aim at his death directly. But as a matter of
fact, death as such, never is necessary. Quiescence being once secured
the attack of necessity ceases. And, therefore, it is not lawful to
aim at more than this.
100 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
wound or a series of wounds. It is upon the use of
these means that paralysis of movement occurs. If
death were the means adopted to produce quiescence it
should precede this latter condition,whereas in practically
every case quiescence is produced and the aggression
ended before death occurs : if death were the means
chosen to produce quiescence it would be desired by
the agent, whereas after the blow is delivered the agent
takes and is supposed to take every possible means to
prevent the occurrence of death : if death were the
means used in self-defence it should normally occur
where the defence is successful, since normally the end
aimed at is only secured by the actual realisation of
the means chosen to secure it. The occurrence of an
end in any other way is accidental and, therefore, rare
and abnormal. On the other hand in point of fact the
condition of immobility or powerlessness to strike is
as often followed by recovery as by death.
What is evident, therefore, is that in self-defence the
only means chosen and the only means necessary is
the stopping of the unjust aggression. The death of
the aggressor is not aimed at and is not a necessary
means of self-defence. When death occurs it is caused
by us indirectly only and cannot be helped.
The death of the aggressor, therefore, in no way
enters into the series of means and ends that make up
the intention of one acting in defence of his life. The
order of aims in such a case is the following : to strike
or wound the " aggressor, in order to stop his charge,
and to save one's own life. If as a result of the blow or
wound delivered, the death of the aggressor should
follow as well as paralysis of movement, the former
consequence is quite beside the intention of the agent ;
it in no wise enters into his aims cither as means or as
end ; it is caused by the agent indirectly only.
In regard to killing in self-defence, therefore, the only
moral problem that legitimately arises is the problem
that we have already fully considered — the problem
OUR DUTIES loi
of the lawfulness of causing evil indirectly, the problem
of the double effect. We saw in an earlier chapter*
that it is lawful to do an act which is followed by two
effects, one good and one bad, when only the good
effect is directly desired, when the bad effect is not the
means whereby the good is attained, and where the good
effect is of sufficient gravity and importance. In the
act of self-defence these three conditions are fulfilled
and, therefore, self-defence, even if it should involve the
death of the aggressor, is a lawful act.
From what precedes it is eas}^ to gather the con-
ditions necessarj^ for a blameless defence. First, the
death of the aggressor must not itself be made an object
of pleasure or be willed in itself ; secondly, the defence
must occur during or in the act of aggression (in ipso
actu aggressionis) else it would be more than the stoppage
of a charge ; f thirdly, not more violence should be
used than is required to stop the attack ; if more violence
is used than is necessarj^ our act is more than one of
* Vol. I. p. 39.
■f A difficult question arises here. When may the aggression be
regarded as begun, and, therefore, when may a man begin his act of
defence ? Card, de Lugo maintains that an act of aggression has
begun as soon as a man makes up his mind to kill, so that if the presence
of such intention were made certain the other party could immediately
begin his defence ; and, if no other way of escape were open, could
kill the aggressor. We have no difficulty, however, in rejecting his
opinion. Aggression is a menace to my life only in so far as it is
external, and, therefore, it is only when the act of aggression has
taken external form, i.e. has begun as an external act, that defence
proper becomes possible. You could not speak of defence against a
mere internal act.
But, on the other hand, to say when the external act of aggression
has begun is no easy matter. It is certain that a man need not wait
for his opponent to shoot in order to begin to set up his defence. His
defence may certainly begin as soon as the aggressor lifts his gun or
even approaches to the fray. It is begun, whenever any act is done
which, in the common estimate of men, would be regarded as forming
part of the aggression. Some acts though they are meant to lead on
to aggression could hardly be regarded as part of the aggression ;
rather they are acts preparatory to aggression, e.g. the purchase of
arms for the purpose of aggression. Such acts, we think, could not
be regarded as setting up a right of immediate defence. In all such
cases, of course, there is room for very great differences of opinion
since it is not easy to say when an external act is only a means pre-
paratory to aggression, and when it is a part of the aggression. But
102 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
defence, it is a new aggression ; perhaps we may add
a fourth condition for clearness sake — the act directed
against us should be strictly one of aggression.'*' I
cannot kill a diseased man simply because of the danger,
that, if he lives, I or others shall die.f His condition
does not make him an aggressor on others' lives. These
are the conditions required for the moderation of a
blameless defence.
It needs only to be mentioned here that just as it is
lawful to kill a man in defence of one's own life so it is
lawful to kill in defence of any very great good. But
again the act done must be strictly one of defence against
attack. It would be lawful to kill a man who attempts
to steal a large quantity of money, provided that killing
is the only way in which the robbery can be prevented.
A woman may kill in defence of her honour,! for violence
may be met with violence. But in all cases where the
good to be defended is not one's own life, but only
property or something of the kind, a condition § must
be added to those already mentioned as ensuring a
we believe that our two general claims hold good, first, that the mere
intention to attack is not an act of aggression such as would justify
killing in self-defence ; and, secondly, that before our attitude could
be construed as one of defence in the proper sense of the term, it
should concern an act which is in some way a part of the aggression,
and not an act which is merely preparatory to aggression.
* i.e., purposeful aggression — whether free or not free it docs not
matter. I may kill a madman who attempts my life just as freely as
I can kill a sane man.
t Craniotomists sometimes forget this condition. The child
about to die is in no sense an aggressor on its mother's life. In justifi-
cation for this terrible crime it has been sometimes alleged that the
child is an aggressor. He is not an aggressor. If it is lawful to
kill the child, it is lawful to kill the diseased man in the case given
above.
I She could not commit suicide to prevent dishonour. Suicide
is not defence. Suicide would be choosing an evil means though to
a good end (Sec " S. Theol.," II. 11"., LXIV. 5, ad 3). But a woman
might risk her life to save lier honour. If there was no other way of
escape she might even i)lunge into a river, not that l>y dying she might
escape, but hoping that the angels might bear her up, or that some
friend might haj>pen to come nigh and save her from death.
§ The rcquircti projwrtion was of course assumed when there wa9
question of aggression against one's life. One life is always pro-
portionate to another.
OUR DUTIES 103
blameless defence, viz. there must be some proportion
obtaining between the good which is being saved and
the death of a human being. A rich man may not
kill in defence of a few shillings.
4. ON ACCIDENTAL KILLING
The question whether a man who kills another
accidentally should be held guilty of homicide is to be
solved by means of principles that have been fully
•explained in another part of this work.* If what is
done is purely accidental, i.e. if it was in no way foreseen, ;
or, being foreseen, could not be avoided, then no responsi-
bility is incurred. If our act is free, and if the conse-
quences are foreseen,! iri at least some confused way,
then responsibility is incurred, and if the consequence
happens to be the death of another person, we are
guilty of homicide in the sense that we are the cause of
his death. J
* Vol. I. p. 33. St. Thomas (II. II*., LXIV. 8) explains that
the guilt of wilful homicide attaching to the case of indirect killing
arises generally in two ways, either through wilful negligence, or
because the act that is done is in itself illicit. The latter part of this
statement requires to be modified to some extent. Even when the
act that is done is illicit, a man could not be held responsible for the
death that his act causes unless the result is foreseen at least in some
confused way. A trespasser on another's land might happen to
knock against the owner in the dark, and cause him to stumble and
fall ; yet, even if death ensued, the trespasser could scarcely be held
guilty of homicide. The result could not have been foreseen in any
way. Perhaps, indeed, we might say that so remote is the connection
between mere trespassing and such an occurrence, that the result is
to be ascribed not to the act that is done, but to the circumstances,
as its cause ; whereas the effects that here concern us are those that
our act causes. For an interesting case at law see Pollock, " Law of
Torts," p. 48 (8th ed.).
t Obviously killing in self-defence is an instance of accidental
killing in this sense. It differs from other cases of accidental killing
only in the fact that in self-defence we intend violence, i.e. such
violence as is required for defence. In other cases no violence is
intended. But in defence, though violence is intended, the death of
the aggressor is not intended. It is only his death which is accidental.
X i.e. provided the death is really the consequence of our act.
Sometimes, as we have just said, the connection is so remote and the
number of circumstances that have to intervene before the result
occurs is so great that it could not seriously be maintained that
death is really an effect of our act.
104 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
But the additional question arises — granted that the
consequence is foreseen and that our act is free, are we
always guilty of sm on account of the consequences that
occur, or is the act which is attended by such fore-
seen consequences, ever justifiable ? We answer — an
act which, it is foreseen, will be attended by evil conse-
quences, even that of the death of some innocent person,
is sometimes justifiable. But to be justifiable four con-
ditions must be fulfilled, [a) the act that we do must
be in itself indifferent, i.e. not illicit ; {h) the death which
occurs must not be desired on its own account ; (c) our
act must be attended b}- some overwhelming good,
sufficient to justify us in incurring responsibility for
such a terrible consequence as that of death ; {d) the
death that occurs must not itself be the means chosen
for securing that good. These conditions have so often
been explained in the present work that it will not be
necessary to repeat our explanation here. The diffi-
culties that arise in the moral and natural law generally
concern the third of these conditions. It is obvious
that the man who for mere fun fires a gun in a crowded
street, even though he does not wish to kill anybody,
is guilty of the grave crime of homicide, should anybody
be shot. There is no justifying reason for such an act.
On the other hand, the motorist who is hotly pursued
by enemies intent on murdering him, and who suddenly
sees a child before him in the narrow street, is not obliged
to stop, and if the child should be killed he is not to be
accounted guilt}^ of sin. Though there is homicide, it is
justifiable. The fugitive had a right to escape, his
act was, therefore, indifferent in itself, it was in itself
not ilHcit, and the good which was at stake (viz. his own
life) was of sufficient gravity, even in comparison with
the child's death, to justify his use of his own right,
even though attended by such a painful consequence.
In foro externo. Judges of the external court are often
confronted with a dilficulty which does not exist for the
moralist, that, viz. of determining whether or not the evil
OUR DUTIES 105
consequences of a man's action were or were not foreseen.*
The moralist determines the amount of guilt which is incurred
if the consequences were foreseen. For the external courts
a much more important question often is — whether they were
foreseen. So far, at all events, as those consequences are
concerned which occur as a result of wilful negligence, the
following practical test is availed of universally in England.
A man isheldjto foresee at^leasl the ««(!!«/«/ and immediate
consequences of his . act, and to be responsible for such
consequences. Now common sense will often tell us the
consequences that ought to be considered as natural and
immediate. They are those, for instance, that are of the
same nature as the act that causes them, e.g. a blow followed
by death, or they are those that normally accompany the
act. But there will be many cases where the naturalness
and immediateness of the consequences are far from obvious,
and hence a more practical working rule for judging of the
foreseen consequences is desiderated. Such a rule is afforded
by a supposed appeal to the distinctively prudent and
reasonable man. Any consequence is supposed to be fore-
seen which a prudent and reasonable man would have fore-
seen in the circumstances. But the prudent and reasonable
man is, like the " economic " man, hard to find or identify.
And hence we are provided with another rule — the Enghsh-
man's final test of what was and was not foreseen : a man is
presumed to have foreseen such consequences as a jury of
twelve of his countrymen considers that he ought to have
foreseen.
5. ON DUELLING
The time-worn problem of the morality of duelling
need not detain us long.f Duelling is " a meeting of
two parties by private agreement to fight with weapons
in themselves deadl}^" J
The meeting must be by private agreement. A chance
encounter between two or more people is not a duel even
• If it is evident that the evil consequences were foreseen then a
man is held guilty of those consequences no matter whether they
were natural and immediate or not. See Pollock, " Law of Torts,"
p. 40 {8th ed.).
t Being almost unknown at present in English-speaking countries
it is not to be regarded as of sufficient practical importance to necessi-
tate any kind of lengthy discussion in a work like the present.
I This excellent definition is taken from Fr. Rickaby.
io6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
though, having met, formal arrangements are made about
the encounter. The two parties must meet to fight, and
by agreement.
Their agreement must be private. A fight arranged
between representatives of different nations by public
authority would not be a duel proper. Such a fight ^
might be even regarded as a war in miniature.
The fight must be with weapons in themselves
deadly, i.e. with weapons designed to kill. A pre-
arranged encounter with fists and " knuckle-dusters "
or even with bludgeons would not be accounted a duel.
It must be with swords or pistols or some other weapons,
the admitted function of which is to kill.
The evil of duelling is two-fold. First, a man directly
wills to kill another ; secondly, he wills directly to risk
his own life. On the first count, the immorality of
duelling should be obvious to all. The duellist desires
to kill his opponent. If he does not, if he determines,
e.g. to fire into the air, then the fight is not a duel but
the semblance of a duel, whereas the question now under
discussion is that of a genuine duel. And even if the
duel takes place in the dark, neither party seeing the
other, still the will of each is to kill the other. Else
j why do they fire ? In a duel, therefore, the direct
' intention is to kill. Nor can it be said that in the duel
each party is acting in self-defence against an unjust
aggressor. For, first, the attack is one that each con-
sents to, and, therefore, it is not of the nature of an
aggression, and particularly an unjust aggression (which
is always contrary to one's will) but rather of an invited
or at least authorised attack. Secondly, defence against
aggression allows the use of no more violence than what
is necessary to stop the aggression and save one's life.
To use more violence than this, is, as we saw, not mere
defence but an additional aggression. Now, both the
challenger to the duel, and he who accepts the challenge
can escape death without the use of violence of any
kind, the one by not challenging, the other by declining
OUR DUTIES 107
the challenge. Duelling, therefore, is not to be inter-
preted as a mere act of defence against unjust aggression.
Secondly, in the duel one risks directly his own life.
Now it will at once occur to the reader that it is not
always wrong to risk one's life. The acrobat and the
Alpine climber risk their lives, admittedly without sin.
Why then should the risk run in the duel be regarded
as intrinsically wrong ? The answer is, first, in the duel
we ourselves not only run the risk but also provide it,
by authorising the attack which is made upon our lives.
Whatever guilt, therefore, is incurred by my opponent
is incurred by me also, differences of course being allowed
for our respective positions. My opponent's act is one
of attempted homicide. The authorising of such an act
is in the nature of attempted suicide,* for a man commits
suicide not only when he shoots himself but also when
he induces or authorises another to shoot him. Secondly,
an acrobat is supposed to render the risk remote. The
danger would be for other people not for him. An
acrobat by previous study and practice takes every
means to render the risk remote, and he takes all pre-
cautions against what risk remains. If his performances
are in mid air, he spreads a net to save him in case of
fall. If he does not it is because he regards himself
as sufficiently dexterous to dispense with the net.f In
duelling, no precaution is taken, no coat of mail is worn,
no attempt is made to render the risk remote. One
may prepare and practice, but the risk can never be
eliminated. If it were there would be no glory in the
duel. The glory and the profits attaching to the acrobat's
• This element of guilt is quite distinct from the sin of co-operation
in another's sin, viz. murder, an element which also is present in the
duel.
t If the danger were not rendered in some degree remote an acrobat
would also sin by exposing his life to danger. His position is quite
different from that of a soldier on the battlefield. The soldier wishes
to save his country. He does not directly will the risk. The acrobat
-directly wills the risk. Therefore, unless it can for him be made
remote, whilst for other people it would be proximate, his act is
sinful.
io8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
feats arise out of the art whereby he has ehminated risk
from an act which to all other men would involve not
only danger of death but actual death ; the duellist,
on the other hand, seeks to vindicate his honour by
siibmitiing his life to danger and not guarding against
it. It is, therefore, supposed to be present and real.
Duelling, therefore, involves two evils, that of an
unjustifiable and unwarranted attack on the life of
another person, and that of submitting one's own life,
without just cause, to danger, a danger also which is
authorised and arranged by one's self. In both these
aspects duelling is intrinsically wrong, and being in-
trinsically wrong, it cannot be justified under any
1^ circumstances.
And what we have said of duelling proper, which
essentially consists in the danger to life involved, holds
true also of those lesser duels, or duels improperly so
called, where injury is caused, but where danger to life
itself is not involved. We speak here of those arranged
encounters (particularly amongst students) where deadly
weapons are used, but used under such restrictions that
death can scarcely occur. Such encounters are intrinsi-
cally wrong. For the same law that forbids the killing
of others, or of one's self, forbids also the doing of
grave bodily injury to another or to one's self, and the
aim of these encounters is the infliction of grave bodily
injury.
Note. — In these latter encounters there is often a want of
proportion l)ct\vccn the offence and its effect. The offence
given is often of the most trivial kind. Indeed, these lighter
duels are a great mark of childishness in the nation that
encourages them. They are indications of a character that
cannot bear the shghtest affront. How different from the
^ character of the magnanimous man !
Tlie motives of tlic duel arc generally, on the part of the
challenger, mtisfaction, and on the part of him who accepts,
the defence of his honour. Neitlier ])nrpose suffices to justify
the duel, which, as we saw, is intrinsically wrong, so that
no purpose could justify it. Safis/acfion seems to be
OUR DUTIES 109
peculiarly inappropriate for serving as a defence of duelling.
Satisfaction for an affront consists in an apology, or re-
tractation, or amends of some kind. The man who accepts
a duel makes no apology or amends. On the contrary,
in addition to insulting you, he attempts to take your life,
and at your invitation. Again, the affront offered would
be much more gravely atoned for if, instead of a duel, the
State were to take up one's case and declare the affront
an insult not only against the party directly affected, but
against the whole of society. And such is the motive of
public punishment. Punishment is inflicted on account of
the element of private and public injury present in each
crime. Therefore, even if duelling were of the nature of
atonement or satisfaction (as we have seen it is not), it would
atone for only part of the guilt attaching to insult, and that
the least part, viz. injury to one's self. The hard case is
that of the man who is challenged to a duel. If he declines
he is dishonoured and perhaps loses his position and means
of livelihood. However, such dishonour and loss are simply
to be accounted one of the penalties of goodness in an evil
world. The duel is, as we have seen, intrinsically wrong,
and a man is no more entitled to accept the challenge to a
duel in order to maintain his position, than he would be
entitled to steal or to do some disgraceful act, were men
found savage enough to dishonour one for being good.
6. ON PERSONAL LIBERTY
We speak here of the restraint of personal or bodily
liberty only, such as incarceration, or tying up a man's
limbs, or holding him down. No private person can
deprive another of his personal liberty except under
very special circumstances. To do so is to subject a
man to yourself, to use him as means, whereas, as mere
men, as private persons, men are not to be regarded as
means to one another,* as we have already proved.
The same law which gives a man a right to his life, and
to bodily integrity, gives him a right to freedom of
bodily movement also. These are the privileges and
rights of personality. And, therefore, it is unlawful to
restrain liberty.
* See p. 82.
no THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The special circumstances above referred to, arise in
the actual commission of evil. We saw before * that a
man by doing evil withdraws himself from the order
of reason and thereby loses the privileges attaching to
rational nature. It is, therefore, in the competence of
the public authorities to punish crime with imprison-
ment, and it is in the competence even of any private
man to restrain any other that is attempting to do evil,
attempting, e.g. to kill another or himself. But such
restraint can only be checked momentarily. It would
not be lawful for a private individual to keep another
for a long time in custody, lest he m.ight do evil. By
doing so we would also prevent the doing of good. Only
the public authority can restrain the liberty of another
for a protracted period and only for the commission of
crime.
On Injuries to Honour, Reputation and Friendship
Under this heading we have to consider three kind&
of injury (a) insult and contumely ; [b) detraction and
calumny ; (c) mischief making. These are all sins which
are effected by words, or by acts which have the force
of words.
(a) Contumely means throwing a man's faults in his
face in order to detract from his dignity. Every person,
as a person, has a right to respect because of the dignity
attaching to human nature. To throw one's faults in
one's face is to violate one's dignity. Its aim is to pull
a man down both in his own estimation and in that of
others.
Contumely, however, is evil whether it takes place
in the presence of others or does not, for every man i»
lowered by abuse whether others are listcnirp or not.
The guilt of contumely is only increased when it takes
place in the presence of others.
* Sec p. g.\.
OUR DUTIES III
Contumely and insult proper suppose the presence
of the person affected. A man may suffer in reputation
but he suffers no indignity from abuse delivered in his
absence.
Essentially distinct from abuse and contumely is the
raking up of a man's faults to himself for purposes of
correction. Again, what is usually spoken of as bantering
is not to be confounded with contumely. For the aim
of bantering, even though it consists in raking up the
faults of another in his presence, is not to dishonour or
sadden, but rather to amuse, and as such it even belongs
to a special virtue.* But bantering may easily turn to
sin through want of care and feeling. " If," says St.
Thomas, " one shrinks not from aggrieving him at whom
he directs his wit, provided only he can raise a laugh —
that is vicious."
(6) Detraction. As contumely is directed to the
lowering of one's honour, so detraction aims at the
destruction of one's reputation. Reputation means the
good opinion which other people have of us. It is a
genuine human good, higher even than lands or money.
And just as it is wrong to steal a man's property so also I
it is wrong to injure a person's reputation or good name. .
Detraction takes place in the absence of the person '
maligned. It requires the presence of other people.
Also it regards only those evils which are to some extent
private. When a crime has already become public
there is no reputation left to filch away.
Detraction is sinful whether the story narrated is true I
or false. t For in both cases a man is deprived of the
favourable opinion of others, which is a true good, a
valued possession. It may be argued that when a man
commits a crime, and still retains a good reputation, he
is in possession of a " good " to which he has no right,
and that, therefore, there can be no injustice in depriving
him of his reputation. We answer — a man has a right
• Vol. I. p. 577.
f The second case is spoken of as calumny.
112 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
to a good reputation as long as he can keep it, just as
he has a right to keep money as long as others are
willing to leave it with him. A person who possesses
money may be deprived of it in one case only, viz. where
'.the keeping of it involves injustice to some one else.
A good reputation involves no injustice to anybody,
and, therefore, as long as it is possessed a man may not
be deprived of it.
Analogous to detraction, or rather calumny, is the
sin of rash judgment — also a crime against justice. As
I may not create a wrong and unfavourable judgment in
the mind of another about any man, so I may not wilfully
set up or allow to be set up a wrong judgment in my own
mind, for a man's right to his reputation extends to the
good opinion of all. Given, however, good and solid
grounds it is each one's right to form his own judgment
about the character of his neighbour.
(c) Mischief-making is directed to the sundering of
friends. It consists in the narration of things which
are not necessarily bad taken in themselves, but which
are bad at least in the sense that they repel a friend.
It is a graver sin than detraction because it deprives
one of a good which is of greater worth than a good
name — a man's reputation is principally of value to
him as a means to friendship. It is also a graver sin
than contumely or dishonour because the friendship of
others is a greater possession than their mere respect.*
We now proceed to treat of problems of justice in
regard to material goods or property.
* St. Thomas also speaks of derision, in which a joke is made of
the defects of others, not to dishonour or malign them, but in order
to put them to the blush. It can become a very grave sin, particularly
when accompanied by contempt.
CHAPTER IV
ON PRIVATE OWNERSHIP AND ON
COMMUNISM
DEFINITION
By ownership is meant the permanent and exclusive
right of retaining, controUing, and disposing of an
object in one's own interest and according to one's own
wishes. From this definition it will be seen that owner-
ship is characterised by four things — the right of control,
of control in one's own interest, permanence of control,
and exclusiveness. The right to control, and to con-
trol in one's own interest we may regard as in a certain
sense the substance of ownership ; permanence and
exclusiveness are inseparable properties.
Ownership confers an unlimited right of control, a
right to dispose of an object in any way one pleases.
Where an owner's right of control and use is limited,
the limitations imposed on him are imposed not by
ownership itself, but by civil law or by some one of the
many moral virtues that affect and direct human action,
such as charity and friendship. For instance, a man
ought to support his wife and children, and some of his
property ought to be devoted to this purpose. But
ownership regarded in itself carries with it a full right
of control and use.*
Secondly, the right of control attaching to ownership
is exercisable in one's own interest. Trusteeship gives
a right of control, but in the interest of another only.
Thirdly, the control attaching to ownership is per-
manent. We do, indeed, speak of certain transitory
* In so far as control and use are possible. The natural qualities
of things are largely independent of human control.
VOL. II — 8 113
114 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
rights such as right for a year, or life interests as rights
of ownership. But ownership in its full and complete
sense is a right of permanent control — a right not limited
as to time.* .
Ownership is also exclusive, i.e. it confers the right
to reserve property for one's own use, and to exclude
all others from its use. This is, indeed, the principal
attribute of ownership, the element most prominent in
the public consciousness in regard to ownership. It is
of course possible for two or three persons to own a
thing in common. In that case there is reall}^ only one
owner, viz. the group of two or three, and their owner-
ship is exclusive of everybody else. A thing over which
everybody had equal rights could not be said to be
owned in any sense.
DIVISIONS OF OWNERSHIP
Ownership is distinguished into public and private,.
according as a thing is owned, on the one hand, by the
community {i.e. the State or a municipality, or some
other public body) or, on the other hand, by a private
individual or body of individuals.
Again, ownership is divided into perfect and imperfect
according as the owner has the right of disposal not
only of the thing itself in substance but also of its uses,
or possesses control of one of these alone. Where
control extends to the substance of the thing alone it
• It is important to remember that in the present work we shall
take no account of part-ownerships or mere " uses," lor instance,
yearly tenures, rights of way, mortgages, " estates." These are all
of extreme imjxjrtancc in civil law ; l)ut the consideration of them
would be out of place in our present discuss on, the aim of which is
merely to defend the existence of a right of private ownership.
Interesting attempts to save the conception of ownersliip as the
right of unlimited control, whils allowing for the detachment from
E roper y of certain " uses " are sometimes attempted in legal treatises.
[arkby, or instance, defines an owner (" Elements of Law," p. 159)
as " a person whose rights over a thing arc only limited by the rights
which have been detached from it." A somewhat similar deiinitioa
is given by Austin.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 115
is spoken of as direct, where to the uses or utilities of a
thing alone it is spoken of as indirect.
As already explained we shall in our present work
take account of perfect or complete ownership only.
Also, as the heading to our chapter indicates, we are
concerned here with private ownesrhip and not with
public, the reason being that private ownership is the
only kind that has ever been called in question by any
thinker or writer. Even the most uncompromising
communist will allow that if an object may not be
owned by private individuals at least it may be owned
by the public at large. What we are concerned to
show in the present chapter is that property may be
owned by individuals also. Our thesis is that private 1j
ownership is a requirement of natural law. '
Our discussion on this subject will consist of two parts.
We must first explain the reason why private ownership
as a system is necessary, why private ownership exists
and is required at all : secondly, we must show how
private ownership arises in particular cases or the various
ways in which men come to be legitimately possessed of
property. The first is a discussion on the grounds of
private ownership, the second concerns the titles of
private ownership.
The Grounds of Private Ownership
As already explained, we are concerned in the first
part of this chapter with the reasons of private owner-
ship as a system. We are to show, not how a ot b comes
to be possessed of his property, but why the system of
private propert}^ exists at all.* Now before giving the
reasons or grounds of private property as a system, it
will be necessary to make a few preliminary remarks on
the exact scope of the question under discussion.
* The titles by which individual men become owners of property
are sometimes spoken of as the proximate grounds of property, the
reasons which justify the system of private ownership (referred to
here as the grounds of property) being the remote grounds.
ii6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
In the first place we are not here concerned with the
special question of the right of private ownership in
land, machinery, warehouses, mines, steamboats, or any
other of those things usually referred to as sources of
wealth, or capital. The question of capital or the sources
of wealth will be discussed in some later chapters of
this volume. At present we are concerned with the
simple, and most general question whether there exists
a right of private ownership in regard to any kind of
wealth. In other words, our discussion in the present
chapter is with the communists who deny to individuals
the right of appropriating any kind of property whatso-
ever, not with the socialists whose strictures in regard
to property are confined to capital or the sources of
wealth alone, which, they say, should be owned only by
the community as a whole, but who allow a right of
private property in other things such as wheat, clothing,
one's own house and furniture — everything, in fact,
which is not productive of further wealth. The theory
of communism has, indeed, few adherents now-a-days,
for which reason it need not take up so much of our
attention as socialism — a question of very great and
universal interest. Nevertheless communism attacks a
more fundamental right than socialism since it dis-
allows mens' right to own any kind of propert}'^ whatso-
ever ; and, therefore, it will be necessary before treating
of socialism to examine the communist position and to
establish the right of private ownership in regard to
property taken generally.
Secondly, the only kind of ownership that is here
considered is ownership in regard to stable, permanent,
or lasting property, i.e. the gathering together of wealth
in the form of money or houses or commodities as
security against the uncertain future. For even the
most extreme communist will admit that a man may
own the food he is going to eat, the clothes on his back
and any thing else that is required for immediate use.
What communists will not allow is the accumulation
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 117
of " riches " in large measure or small, or what we have
called stable property.
Thirdly, though we defend the right of private owner-
ship, we admit the right of public ownership also. In
every civilised country the State as well as the private
individual has its lands, houses, and other kinds of
property. Our only contention here is that private
property is necessary. How far State ownership should
be allowed to encroach on the system of private owner-
ship is a question which we shall be in a better position
to consider when treating of socialism.*
Fourthly, and to this preliminary observation we
invite the reader's earnest attention, in claiming that
private ownership is of natural law, we do not contend
that nature has herself made distribution of her goods,
assigning one part to one individual, another to another.
On the contrary, were it not for the intervention of
human reason, the goods of nature would have remained
always common — negatively common, in the sense that
they would never be taken into private hands and used
as private property. But though nature herself makes
no particular distribution of her goods her clear intention
is that her stores of wealth should be utilised, and
utilised also to the best advantage, for which end it is
necessary that they should be taken into private hands
and used, as we shall presently proceed to show, as
private property. All this St. Thomas clearly explains
when he sa3^s " community of goods is set down as a
part of the natural law, not as though it were a dictate of
natural law that things should be possessed in common,
and that there should be no private property, but be-
cause the marking off of separate possessions is not done
by nature herself but rather according to human con-
vention." The theory which we here oppose is the
theory that the goods of nature are positively common,
viz. that there is a dictate of nature and natural reason
* See p. 275.
Ii8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
enjoining common ownership and forbidding private
ownership. This is the chief tenet of the communists.
Lastly, when we say that private property is necessarj^
we do not mean that it is so indispensable that under
no conditions could common ownership be set up amongst
men, or that without private property the race should
forthwith disappear. Without private property a small
group of savages, for instance, might get on very well —
for savages. Without private property, again, a small
group of very perfect men not given to laziness, or jealousy,
or unfriendliness, or contentiousness, or subject to any
of the weaknesses of human nature, might attain even
to a very high degree of human excellence. Our present
contention is that for a large community like a State,
and particularly a State made up of actual men, men as
we know them, in whom good and evil will always be
mingled together, private property is necessary, so that
without it welfare and development are impossible.
These preliminary explanations being made we are
now in a position to establish our fundamental thesis
on the right of private property, which is as follows: — *
Private ownership is a necessary requirement of man,
and the entire prohibition of private ownership is un-
justifiable in natural law.
We shall here attempt to establish the necessity of
private ownership first, in connection with the individual
interest ; secondly, with that of the family ; thirdly,
with the well-being of the race.
{a) THE INDIVIDUAL INTEREST
(i) The individual is naturally prior to the com-
munity and to the State — prior logically, since individuals
• We are here dealing with a right that is almost axiomatic and
self-evident, a right Ihat is hardly disputed by any person. This
general acceptance fortunately relieves us from the necessity of such
a detailed and lengthy argument as is required to establish the right
of private capital, our discussion in regard to which extends to several
chapters of the present volume.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 119
are the elements which constitute society, and prior
historically, since individuals precede the State in time.
Now, long before the State came into being, individual
men had by their labour acquired property of various
kinds. It was their right to do so there being no law
to prevent them, and it was necessary to do so, first,
for their own protection, and secondly, in the interest
of the world at large : for if men could not own the
things they produced nothing would be produced. The
system of private ownership was, therefore, fully estab-
lished before the State came into being, and consequently
the State has no right to abolish it under any circum-
stances. It also preceded all possible forms of common
ownership and, therefore, it is more in accordance with
nature's design than common ownership. The system
of private ownership is as primary and fundamental in
the economical life of man, as the individual is in his
social life.
(2) The prohibition of private property is a grave
injustice to the individual since it opposes the most
fundamental rights of the individual ; (a) his right to
individual development ; (/S) his right to happiness ;
(7) his right to the products of his own labour.
(a) Development consists in the fullest exercise of a
man's capacities and faculties about their best objects.
And since the individual has received his capacities from
nature he has a full right to their free and fullest exer-
cise. Now private property is an essential condition
of the full and perfect use of our individual capacities,
and, therefore, of development. If no man may possess
property as his own, such as land, or houses, or a business,
or at least the money that he earns by his work, there is
nothing to induce him to exercise his capacities in regard
to external things. On the contrary, by forbidding
private property, the State sets up the most effective
of all prohibitions against their exercise. But let a
right of private property be granted, and at once the
faculties of man, physical and mental, awaken into life.
120 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and their complete and perfect exercise is not only
rendered possible but favoured and ensured. A general
system of private property is as necessary to the exercise
of the individual faculties and to individual development
as air is to life, and, therefore, to abolish and prohibit
the system of private possessions would be in effect to
hinder and suppress individual development. " Man,"
says Rousseau, " is born free but is everywhere in
chains." This he regards as chiefly attributable to
private property. As a matter of fact it is the forbidding
of private property that forms the most effective of all
weapons for repressing human development and human
freedom.
(i8) Private property is necessary for the happiness
and welfare of the individual. There are men who are
capable of a certain amount of happiness though
possessed of nothing but the coat on their backs and
food sufficient for the day. But then there are men
whom not even the loss of an eye or a limb would render
unhappy ; but surely eyes and limbs are normally
necessary for individual happiness and welfare. In
general, however, it cannot be denied that external
possessions are an important source of happiness to
the individual man, and, therefore, the absence of
external possessions must represent a corresponding
and proportionate privation.
But a law prescribing the total abolition of private
property would be more than a privation. It would be
the cause of immense positive misery to every person.*
To feel that one is gifted by nature with capacities for
creating and amassing wealth without injury to others,
and yet to be prevented by public law from doing so,
would be a source of the deepest vexation and morti-
fication to any ordinary man. To know that one has
within him powers more than sufficient to render him
independent of others, and yet to be compelled to eat
* Even to those who in the absence of such prohibition do not
feel the want of property.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP i2r
at the public tables, and to depend on the State for
every necessary of life, would in most men awaken the
keenest resentment and irritation. And this feeling of
dependence on the good will of others must grow more
acute and oppressive as old age approaches, when
labour becomes impossible, and no other security against
neglect and poverty is possible except the security of a
store of wealth. The thought of an old age entirely
dependent on the charity or the good will of others
would, to most men, be a source of grave anxiety all
through their lives. For these reasons it is obvious
that the abolition of private property is opposed to the
happiness and welfare of the individual man.
(y) But our chief argument concerns the right of a
man to the products of his own energies and labour.
The individual has from nature an unquestioned right
of property in his own person, his own powers and
energies. And having a right of property in his own
energies he has also a right of property in the products
of those energies, since the products of a man's energies
are nothing more than his energies transformed. But
the products of our energies for the most part consist
of external goods and, therefore, the individual has a
right of property in external goods.
We go farther and claim that since the present wealth
of the world is almost wholly a result of human labour,
mental and physical, by natural law the greater part of
the wealth of the world should lie in private individual
hands, all labour being essentially the labour of individual
men. " There were plants of corn and wine in smaU
quantity," writes Hobbes, " dispersed in the fields and
woods before man . . . planted them apart in fields
and vineyards." But it is human labour that has
produced out of these few plants provided by nature
the present teeming harvests of the world. Individuals
have, therefore, a right of private property to most of
the wealth of the world.
It may be said, however, that the State has a right
122 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
to interfere with the individual interest where that
interest is supposed to be in comflict with the interest
of the family and the race. In the following sections
we go on to show that private property is even more
necessary in the interest of the family and the race
than in that of the individual.
(b) THE FAMILY WELFARE
Our proof that private property is necessary in the
family interest is two-fold. First, we shall show that
men have not only a right but a duty to provide for their
families, and that this can only be done by the acquiring
of private property. Secondly, in a country in which
private property is forbidden, the family is in grave
danger of losing its independence and of being inter-
fered with in its most sacred relations by the public
authorities, to its own grave detriment and that of the
race.
The family is nature's means for the existence and
maintenance of the individual life. It is the first society
known to nature. It existed even before the State.
Nature's chief interest, therefore, in regard to human
well-being is centred in the family, the source and
sustainer of human life. In the eyes of nature the
interest of the family is paramount, it is an absolute
requirement of the law of nature. That private property
is necessary in that interest, more clearly even than in
the interest of the individual or of society at large, we
now proceed to prove.
(i) The man who summons children into the world
assumes responsibility for feeding and educating those
children. And because he has summoned them into
life they have a right to look to him for all that is re-
quired for their development and perfection. Friends
may offer to take over a father's responsibility. The State
may offer to assume the duty of support. But the only
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 123
responsibility which nature recognises and on which it
counts is that of the parent of the child. Even, there-
fore, if others undertake the care of his children, and
even though in some extreme cases a father might be
justified in allowing his children out of his hands, never-
theless a father's responsibility never ceases. He must
be there if others fail to do what they have undertaken.
He must be there even if they do not fail, since at any
time the child is free to insist on its right to be reared,
taught, supported, directed, tended by those from whom
it has received its life.
This responsibility which nature imposes upon the \
father gives him the right as well as imposes the duty of \
gathering together a store of wealth, and gives him the
right of property in that wealth. It is the chief con-
dition of the future security and well-being of his children.
Nor is there any limit in nature to the amount of pro-
perty which a man may accumulate. For, in the first
place, nature considers the possibility not of a few
children . only, but cf many, so that a man ma}'^ reach
the fullness of years before the last child has been fully
and finally provided for, a fact which entitles one to go
on amassing property all one's life. Also, the children
whom he summons into the world will themselves in
the natural course of events found families, and the ,
father has a right to put them into a secure position for J
beginning their married life. In this matter the needs
of children are quite indefinite and, indeed, unlimited,
and, therefore, ? father may go on storing wealth to
the end of his life and to any amount that he desires.*
It will be said, indeed, that many men do not marry,
or that a man may have no children. But these are
accidents and not intended by nature. Every man is
potentially the head of a family and, therefore, he is
equipped by nature with a radical right to property ;
* We must not lose sight also of the fact that a man may store
possessions for himself and his wife against old age, as was explained
in the last section.
124 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and in accordance with this radical right he may accumu-
late property before his marriage, and whether he
marries or not, and whether he has children or not.
And since in the intentions of nature the family is of
continuous growth and unending, so nature guarantees
to each individual peaceful and lawful possession
and enjoyment of his property for ever.
Property, therefore, is a fundamental necessity of
the family and attaches to the very idea of family life.
But if property is necessary for the existence and
ordinary well-being of the family, a fortiori, it is necessary
for the better and more developed family life, the life
that will allow of progress in trades, in studies, in art,
in all that makes for human refinement. And if it is
necessary for the family under normal conditions of
health and well-being, so also it is necessary as a safe-
guard against sickness, against the untimely death of
parents, and as a remedy for the various ills to which
human life is subject. This is not, indeed, the primary
purpose of property. But it is a secondary end of very
great importance. Its primary end is the promotion
of the family welfare under normal conditions of health
and well-being.
(2) But a much graver danger to the family life than
the economic loss it will be compelled to sustain in the
absence of private property has now to be considered.
In a system where private property cannot be owned it
is impossible that men should be allowed freely to choose
their partners in life,* or that marriage should be re-
garded in any other way than as a union terminable
at the will of the State. Also under communism the
dimensions of the family will of necessity be regarded
as falling under State control, and in this way its
existence and the existence of the race will be gravely
imperilled. Let us briefly consider these two dangers
to the family life in the communistic State.
• I'lato, " J<epublic," V. 460.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 125
Aristotle had no illusions about certain possible
higher forms of communism which while nationalising
riches, would leave the family intact. He knew well
that in a system where property was common, persona
would be common also. To Aristotle, therefore, Plato's
advocacy of the common family as a feature of the
best State was no mere accidental addition, it was an
essential portion of the theory of communism. If a
man may not own money or a store of goods as his own
he certainly will not be allowed to choose a wife of his
own. Neither will he be allowed to make the wife which
the State allots him his own for ever, or for any period
longer than accords with the purposes of the State.
And if he cannot make his own of the products of his
own labour, neither will he be given the ownership of
the children which he brings into the world. If property
is common, children will be common also. " Under
communism," says Aristotle, " each one will have a
thousand sons who will not be his sons individually but
anybody's, and will be neglected by all alike." In a
word, communism will mean the end of the family life.
The same conclusion is forced upon us if we consider
the duty of the State under communism to provide for
the citizens. Under communism the State will be the
universal provider, and its duty is to provide the means
of subsistence for every child that is brought into
existence. In other words the State will be under an
obligation to provide for each family according to the
number of children in it. This being so, since he who
pays the piper has the right to call the tune, the State
will eventually see to it that it will be consulted in
regard to every condition of the family life and particu-
larly in regard to the dimensions of the family. Thus
by placing limitations on the number of children to
be brought into the world with a right of support from
the State, the State will so restrain the free expansion
of the family as to imperil its existence and the con-
tinuance of the race. This argument is developed later
126 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
in our present work in connection with socialism where
only the sources oi wealth are to be nationalised. It
holds in a far greater degree in a system in which the
State must provide and dispense not only the capital of
the country, but also every other kind of possession
required by its citizens.
Private property is, therefore, a natural necessity of
the family ; it is necessary both economically and
morally, and its necessity for the family, even if it were
not required for the individual and for society, would,
of itself, be proof that private property is from nature,,
i.e. is a requirement of natural law.
(c) THE GENERAL INTEREST
We have seen that private ownership is necessary
for the welfare of the individual and of the family.
We now go on to show that it is necessary also in the
interests of society at large. Three arguments are
adduced by St. Thomas Aquinas,* all based upon the
social welfare, in proof of the necessity of private property.
They are as follows : (i) private property is necessary
as an incentive to labour and as a condition of intensive
production ; (2) without it, economic order and organisa-
tion are impossible ; (3) property is necessary in the
interests of peace and a good moral life.
(i) " Every one," writes St. Thomas, " is more careful
to look after what is his own private concern than after
what is common to all or many, since every one avoids
labour and leaves to another to do the duty that belongs
to a number of persons in common, as happens where
there are many persons to wait on you.'' (2) " Human
affairs," he writes again, " are handled in a more orderly
• " S. Thcol.," II. II'-., LXVI. 2. It is because the principal
ground of property is its necessity for the family welfare tliat it is
discussed by Aristotle in his chapters on the family and the house-
hold (" Politics," 11.) ; St. Thomas lays stress rather on the necessity
of property in the public interest.
Two of St. Thomas' ar^'uments given above, namely, the first
and third, are taken from Aristotle.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 127
fashion wh'tre every Individual has his own care of some-
thing to look to : whereas there would be confusion if
every one indiscriminately took the management of
anything he pleased." (3) " A peaceful state of society
is better ensured (under the system of private property)
every one being content with his own lot. Hence we
see that disputes arise not uncommonly among those
who have any possession in joint stock."
Let us consider each of these arguments very briefly.
(i) The first is based on the necessity of incentives
for human labour. For its economic well-being society
depends primariH on the production of wealth. Now,
wealth is not provided ready-made by nature. In
nature there are the potencies of wealth only. These
potencies have to be turned into actual riches by the
exercise of labour, i.e. of human energy, mental and
physical. Without labour, for instance, the soil of the
earth would be comparatively barren. Without labour
and particularly mental labour many of the most
precious possessions of man would be entirely non-
existent. Labour not only reduces the potencies of nature
to act, but also increases these potencies a hundred-
fold. In fact, with the exception of a mere fraction of our
present wealth, the riches of the world are entireh' a
result of human labour.* Then again, when labour has
brought wealth into being, this wealth has to be brought
to the doors of men. There would be little use in pro-
ducing cotton, e.g. in great abundance in one country
if it would not be conveyed to others, and worked up
there into fabric, made into clothes, and exhibited in
the shop-windows close to our homes. All this means
labour, mental and physical, labour engrossing and un-
ceasing, labour that taxes the capacities of men to their
utmost. The wealth and well-being of the world,
therefore, depend on human labour.
St. Thomas' argument is that, under the crude form
of communism which he considers, where, namely^
* i.e labour in its broad sense — not mere manual labour.
J28 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
everything is owned by everj^body and each man has a
right to reap the fruits that another has sown, the
individual will have no inducement to put his best
energies into his work, and so the wealth of the world
must necessarily diminish. But the same holds true
of that system of organised communism not considered
by St. Thomas in which the State appoints and de-
termines the work to be done by each man, putting one
man in charge of a certain tract of land, another in
-charge of a warehouse, another to work in quarry or
mine, and then ensuring that the fruits of their work
should be sent into the common Treasury to be dis-
tributed from that amongst the people at large. A man
does not work for labour's sake but for the fruits that
result from labour ; and since under this system the
fruits of labour go, not to the labourer, but to the com-
munit}^, it follows that men will have very little interest
in their work and will not bestow their best energies
upon it. Wealth, therefore, will not be produced on
the same large scale as under the system of private
ownership, and so the communist State will remain
comparatively poor and unprogressive.
(2) Having shown that private property is necessary
for the production of wealth in abundance St. Thomas
next goes on to prove that private property is more
conducive than communism to economic order. Under
the system of private property the use and administra-
tion of each piece of property, be it land, or a factory,
or a warehouse, falls automatically to a definite person,
i.e. the owner. He alone has the right to use or ad-
minister his property. Thus, though under the system
of private ownership there may be conflict of interests
between one person and another, there can be no con-
flict of function. Each man knows definitely what he
has to do and he does it without interference from
others. Again, there is no difliculty as to the owner-
ship of the fruits. The fruits derived from property
.go to the owner of the property and to him alone. Thus
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 129
under this system of private ownership, the simplest
that could possibly be devised, the great complex machine
of the world's commerce keeps ever moving, turning out
wealth in fabulous amounts and distributing each part
of that wealth to its proper owner without friction or
confusion or difficulty of any kind.
A system in which all things are owned in common
will necessarily lead to effects the opposite of this. It
must lead to unending confusion both as regards the
functions to be performed by each and the rights of
each in regard to the fruits. Of course it is possible
for the State to remedy this confusion in some measure
by appointing individuals to do each a definite portion
of the national work, and by distributing the wealth of
the State according to some definite principle amongst
individual families. But this could only be done on a
very small scale by the State. How could the State
undertake the distribution of all the wealth of the
country amongst the inhabitants, e.g. the chairs, the
tables, the pictures, the houses ; and how could it
appoint functionaries to administer the ten or twelve
millions of places filled by the workers of Great Britain
to-day. At most it could appoint the highest and most
general functionaries, and outside of their work all
would be confusion as we have said.
Besides, anything that the State might do in this
connection would necessarily be of its nature curative
or remedial, a purely artificial device invented for the
purpose of allaying the disorder that always results
from interfering with nature's plans and purposes,
and the very necessity for finding such a remedy is
of itself a proof that communism is a departure from
nature and the natural requirements in regard to
property. From the beginning men have been working
according to the system of private property. From the
beginning men were provided by nature with faculties
for utilising and opportunities for appropriating the
goods of nature. And they have used their faculties
VOL. II — 9
130 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and opportunities, and have already appropriated much
of the wealth that lies around one invitingly everywhere.
Under this sj^stem of private ownership, as we said,
there could be no confusion or disorder. It is the
simplest and most direct system possible for utilising
wealth, and fulfilling nature's injunction to get the
best out of the natural sources. If, now that this
system has been established, with nature's recognition
and consent (and it must be remembered that even
now the system of private ownership is simpler than any
other) the State were to interfere, and, for purposes of
its own, however laudable, were to throw all things into
the melting pot, negativing all existent titles, then,
even though society might devise remedies to patch
up the resulting confusion, her devices would be of
their nature, not original, but remedial, and consequently
we could no more speak of the programme of the
nationalisation of all wealth as natural, than we could
speak of surgical operations as a design of nature, simply
because medicines and apparatus can be devised to
remedy the evils which operations entail. A system
that promotes disorder cannot, we venture to submit,
be regarded as commanded by natural law, even though
the disorder which is created is capable of being remedied
by some device of human reason.
In general, then, we think that the proposition, so
simply put forward by St. Thomas Aquinas, that under
communism things are not handled in "so orderly a
fashion " as under the system of individual ownership,
is borne out by reason and experience ; and, therefore,
we claim, it is the system of private and not of common
ownership that best meets the requirements of nature
in regard to society.
(3) In his third argument St. Thomas emphasises a
difiiculty in the way of the communistic State which
has already been hinted at in our development of the
second arg\micnt. Under the system of private owner-
ship each man is content with his own lot, not in the
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 131
sense that he may not wish for more than he has, or
that he may not have much to complain of in his fellows,
but in the sense that under the present system a man is
allowed to determine his own career, that having worked
and received the value of his labour, he may save his
money, build up a fortune, and follow any avocation
that he likes. At present success or failure in life
depends at least very largely on a man himself. Under
the system of common ownership a man's circumstances
and position depend wholly on society. For, first, what
he receives for his work depends upon society. He
will eat and clothe himself not out of his own money
but out of the common stock and only to the extent to
which government allows. Secondly, his position in
life is determined by government. Also, though having
a right of equal treatment with all other men he will,
nevertheless, be treated most unequally. For, under
communism, whereas all are supposed to have equal
rights to positions and to be equal owners of the national
property, it will be impossible to give equal treatment
to all. The work of the miner will have to be performed
as well as that of the clerk, the doctor, the engineer,
the traveller, and the diplomat. The precious and more
valuable things amongst all the articles owned by the
State will, if they are to be used at all, have to be
assigned to some in particular and not to others. They
cannot be given to all. In general terms, therefore,
under the system of private property, man's lot is
largely dependent on himself, and there is no man who,
if he has ability and is willing to exercise it, may not
do much to better his position in the world. Under
communism a man's lot is not determined by himself
in any way. Under that system the individual is only
a pawn in the hands of the State, with no right of
direction over his own movements. In the communistic
State, therefore, every failure and misfortune occurring
in the community will be charged up to the govern-
ment, and the public spirit will be one of universal un-
132 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
rest and discontent. In proportion as any man is the
maker of his own way and of his own fortune he is con-
tent with the position in which his own actions place
him. In proportion as his position and fortune are
determined for him by others his tendency is to be
restive and rebellious. Under the communistic system
a man's right of freedom and self-direction is wholly
ignored. His life from beginning to end is determined
and controlled by arbitrary decree on the part of the
public authorities.
It may be objected that there are inequalities also
in our present system. But it is to be remembered
that whatever inequality attaches to our present sj^stem
attaches to a system based admittedly on a theory of
inequality in talent, energy, and luck, three undeniable
facts of human life. On the other hand the inequalities
of the communistic State are inequalities accompanying
a system specially designed for the removal of in-
equalities, a system under which men are induced to
give up all right of personal initiative and of freedom
and to place themselves unreservedly in the hands of
the State, in order to receive equal treatment with all
others. We claim that while comparative peace and
contentment are possible under our present system, with
some exercise of good will all round, they are un-
imaginable under communism.
These are St. Thomas' three arguments in favour of
private property and in disproof of communism, based
upon the conception of public utility and the peace of
Bociety.*
♦ Aristotle adduces two other arguments. One is the argument
(Pol. II. 5, 9) that private property affords opportunities for the
exercise of such virtues as temperance in abstaining from other people's
goods, and liberality in dispensing one's own. The second argument
is political in character — under communism it would be dillicult to
determine the kind of government involved. Both arguments it
seems to us are based on considerations which are accidental and
extrinsic to property.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 133
THE SCOPE OF OWNERSHIP, OR THE DUTIES ATTACHED
TO OWNERSHIP
We have already stated that ownership entitles a
man to use his property in any way he wishes. Now
when we say that a man may do what he likes with his
property our meaning is that he may do so in so far as
mere justice is concerned. But a man may have obliga-
tions in charity or friendship or liberality as well as in
justice, and these obligations often place serious limita-
tions upon our freedom in regard to property, sometimes
binding us positively to share our possessions with
others, sometimes negatively — not to use our property
to the detriment of others. Again, the rights of owner-
ship may be limited b}^ obligations even in justice,
resulting from the conditions under which o'UTiership is
held, and these conditions may, and, as we shall presently
see, do hold not only for some but for all kinds of pro-
perty. In this way we find that the rights attaching
to property, though always extensive, and important,
and though in the abstract, that is, considering the
effects of ownership only, they are unlimited, neverthe-
less, actually they are limited by many and grave
responsibilities, and are, therefore, far from being of
that absolute character which manj' people are wont to
connect with the idea of ownership.
In three principal ways * a man may find his liberty
to use his property in any way he pleases limited and
conditioned by natural law. In the first place a man
is bound in charity and friendship to be open-handed,
neighbourly, and generous with others, particularly with
the poor, and to lend or give in reason, according to
their requirements. A man should not shut the whole
world out from his property as if the world had no
* We are here enumerating natural responsibilities only. The
civil law also attaches special obligations to property such as the
obligation of paying taxes, of keeping property in repair. These
obligations are often very numerous and irksome, but the State has a
right to impose them for the sake of the common good. We have
nothing, however, to do with such obligations here.
134 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
claim upon him, and as if he were under no indebtedness
to the world. Every man is bound to love his neighbour,
and the test as well as the natural result of our love of
others is the sharing of our goods with them. Also, even
though a man acquires property by his own exertions,
his exertions and his attainments can never be so much
his own as to render him independent of the rest of
the world. In every act that we do there is some degree
of indebtedness to the labours and the genius of others,
either in the information they help us to bring to our
work, or the instruments they make it possible for us
to use to attain our end.
This duty of openhandedness and neighbourliness in
sharing our goods with others is expressed very vigorously
both by St. Thomas * and Aristotle t when they say
that though property may be owned and administered
by private persons, the use of it ought to be common,
not in the sense that other men have the same rights as
ourselves, but that owners should be liberal and con-
siderate to others in their needs. " Among the good,"
writes Aristotle, " and in respect of use, friends, as the
proverb says, will have all things common. . . . For,
although every man has his own property, some things he
will place at the disposal of his friends, while of others
he shares the use with them. The Lacedaemonians,
for example, use one anothers' slaves and horses and
dogs, as if they were their own, and when they happen
to be in the country, they appropriate in the fields
whatever provisions they want. It is clearly better
that property should be private, and the use of it (in
the sense just explained) common ; and the special
business of the legislator is to create in men this benevo-
lent disposition."
Secondly, a man is under an obligation in charity not
to use his property in such ways as will prove detri-
mental to the public interest or to a large section of
• " S. Theol.," II. II«., LXVI. a.
t " Politics," Book II.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 135
the people. A landowner should not depopulate a
countryside simply in order to extend his parks and
hunting grounds, unless, indeed, the people can be as
easily accommodated and as easily fmd cmploj^ment
elsewhere. In the use of our property we are bound to
have regard to the public interest.
Thirdly, an owner is bound iti justice to come to the
aid of those in absolute distress. To a starving man he
must give food. If the community were in absolute
distress he might be bound in justice to give even a
large part of his possessions, always, however, provided
that his own family is not reduced to want thereby. A
man's first duty is to his wife and children.
The exposition of the reasons on which this last instance
of the responsibilities of property is based introduces
us to a very interesting problem of ownership which
we shall here briefly explain, even though, in treating
of it, it is necessary to anticipate something that belongs
more properly to a later portion of this chapter. How
can it come to pass that a man is ever, in justice bound
to come to the aid of others by giving to them what is
his own ? That a man may be bound in charity to
help others is easily intelligible. But ownership confers
a right of absolute disposal over one's property, so that
in justice property belongs to the owner alone. How
then may another be said to have a right in justice to our
property under any circumstances ? Our answer is that
nothing that is owned is produced wholly by ourselves.
We do not produce the materials of which a thing is
made. Even if we have bought it from others there is
always something in the object which others have not
produced, which was the work of nature from the
beginning. In other words, as we shall show later in
the present chapter, all ownership begins in occupancy,
in appropriating something to which we have no title
or claim, and which we are allowed by nature to appro-
priate simply because without appropriation objects
would never be taken into anybody's possession, and
136 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the resources of nature would remain unused. Now a
necessary natural condition of all occupancy is that
what is " occupied " should not itself be necessary for
the community. If it is necessary for the community
it naturally belongs to the community, and no man
has the right to appropriate it. And this condition
which governs every act of occupancy in the beginning
continues to attach to the thing which is owned as long
as it remains, and no matter into how many hands it
subsequently passes. Let an object at any time during
the period of ownership become absolutely necessary
for the community, or for any part of the community,
necessary, that is, to save the community or part of
it from extinction, and that which we found to be an
essential condition of occupancy in the beginning,
becomes operative once more and confers upon those
in absolute distress a right in justice to that which is
necessary for their relief.
The Natural Titles of Ownership *
Having assigned the chief grounds or reasons of the
system of private ownerphip, we now proceed to enumerate
the principal natural titles of ownership, that is, the facts
or events by which particular owners come naturally to
have a right to own their property and to exclude all
others f from the use of it. These titles are necessary,
• Salmond (" Jurisprudence ") and Mackenzie (" Roman Law ")
speak of these titles as " modes of acquiring property." Austin
(Lecture XIV.) defines titles as " the facts or events of which they
(rights in rem) are legal consequences (or on which by the disposition
of the law they arise or come into being), and also the facts or events
on which, by the dispositions of the law, they (rights in rem) terminate
or arc extinguished. '
I Wc here treat of the titles of ownership in its strictest sense
only, i.e. ownership as exclusive of, or against the whole world. The
right which a buyer possesses to retain goods which he has bought
from one who is not the rightful owner avails against all others except
the real owner, and it is spoken of as ownership against certain persons.
Ownership in this restricted sense is not considered in the present
chapter.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 137
for, even though the system of private ownership is
admitted on all hands, still before a man can make
any particular object his own he must be able to appeal
to some special fact or law which places the ownership
in him rather than in others. It is these facts or laws
that we shall here attempt to enumerate.
Titles are divided into natural and artificial (or civil),
according as they spring from the natural law or from
the positive, i.e. the civil law. Again, a title may be
fundamental, i.e. one on which all the others depend, or
it may be itself dependent on some other title. We shall
treat here : —
I. Of the original and fundamental natural title to
property, or that title which all the others presuppose,
and which itself depends on and presupposes no other.
II. Of the chief subordinate natural titles.
I. THE FUNDAMENTAL NATURAL TITLE — OCCUPANCY
Some writers regard all ownership as grounded
ultimately on the civil law. Thus, according to Hobbes,*
all property is based on an express act of the sovereign.
Others, again, regard labour as the fundamental title. f
To our mind neither of these views is tenable. The
first we reject because [a) private property existed
before the State arose, when as yet the family was the
only social unit ; and [h) because, even now, titles of
ownership may be acquired without the consent of the
State, as when an individual discovers and appropriates
some valuable object in an unappropriated territory.
His right to keep such object could not be founded on
State law. J The second theory above mentioned we
* " Leviathan," ch. 24.
t Locke, " Treatises on Government," Bk. IL, ch. V.
X It will be seen, however, that though the titles to property
are not all founded on State law, nevertheless, the State can create
titles, and to all titles, even those which she does not create, she can
append conditions that hold in conscience as well as before the civil
tribunals.
138 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
also reject because even in the things that are produced
by labour, there is always something which labour does
not produce, viz. the substance or the original materials
out of which the thing is made, and unless these materials
are first rightfully owned the results of our labour
cannot be appropriated. A man, for instance, cannot
on the mere title of labour become owner of the statue
which he makes, unless he is first the owner of the marble
on which his labour is expended.
The view to be defended here is that occupancy is
the fundamental title of ownership. The full exposition
of this thesis, however, will necessitate our establishing
two distinct propositions, first, that occupancy is a
proper and sufficient title of ownership, secondly, that
it is a fundamental title presupposed in all the others.
First, it is a sufficient title in the ej^es of nature because
it fully meets nature's requirements in regard to her
goods. Nature places her goods before men to be used
by them. She is satisfied, therefore, with any course
which, while it offends against no pre-established right
and against no enactment of the civil law (for, of the
civil law also nature has a care, government and civil
law being necessities of nature), effectually places her
goods in the hands of men, and enables them to use her
goods. Such a course or act is that of occupancy.
Secondly, occupancy is a jundamcntal title presupposed
in all the others. If somebody did not become owner
of the land by occupancy, it could never be owned
either by individuals or by the community. Without
occupancy the individual could not become owner. To
labour on it, for instance, would not give the necessary
title because the land itself, though improved by labour,
is not produced by labour. Nor could the community
become owner except through occupancy : for the
community docs not produce the land, and even its
right to spend labour on the land, and to prevent other
outside conunmiitioH from doing the same, presupposes
a previous ownership in the land, which ownership can
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 139
originally be based upon no other act or event than that
of occupancy.
In general, then, since a title is any act or event which
confers ownership, and since the first act or event which
could possibly bring an individual or a community
into direct relationship with anything in such a way as
to give rise to ownership in it, is the taking of it into
somebody's possession, occupancy is a necessary pre-
supposition of all titles of ownership. " Le seul cas
absolument inconteste d'acquisition par un mode
originaire est I'occupation, I'acquisition par la prise
de possession de choses qui n'appartiennent a personne." *
The Conditions of Occupancy.
To be a valid title occupancy must fulfil certain con-
ditions. Some of these attach to the act of occupancy,
some to the object.
The act of occupancy plainly includes two elements.
First, it involves the taking of something into one's power
or possession with the intention of holding it as one's
own. Secondly, the act must be such as to convey to
others some intimation that proprietary possession has
* Girard — " Droit Remain " (4th ed.), p. 314. Locke maintains
that even when things are acquired by occupancy it is the labour
exerted on them that really creates the title. As Westermarck,
however, remarks, it is only by means of " strained construction "
that occupancy may be explained in terms of labour.
Others, like Salmond (" Jurisprudence," p. 413) and Markby
(" Elements of Law," ch. IX.) represent occupancy as one division
of the more general title of possession, or the right which possession
gives one to keep the thing possessed even though it is not owned
on any other title. We contend, on the contrary, that "occupancy"
and " possession " are specifically distinct titles. For (a) occupancy is
a natural — possession, an artificial title, (b) Their ends are different;
the end of possession, as Salmond confesses, is to " prevent force
and fraud," that of occupancy is to make ownership possible — without
it ownership could never begin, (c) They differ in their effect :
occupancy confers a title against the whole world ; possession confers
the right to keep what is possessed, but only as against some. At
least the rightful owner of an article may sue for his property, or
even take it by force, (d) Occupancy is a rightful and legal act.
Possession may be illegal, as in the case of things purchased from one
who is known not to be the owner.
140 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
been taken. From these it is evident that the act of
occupancy must be external* By means of a purely
internal act one could not be said either effectively to
take possession, or to intimate such possession to others.
What is this external act ? It is any act which brings
an object within one's power and can be understood by
others as an indication of ownership. Naturally it will
vary with the kind of object which is appropriated.
It is not sufficient, for instance, to point a gun at a
wild animal ; it must be shot or taken into possession
in some way, if it is to become one's private property.
Appropriation in land is effected not only by tilling or
enriching the soil, but by any act which in the common
judgment of men would be regarded as seriously
preparatory to use, such as fencing the land or marking
it out for use. A State usually occupies land by certain
acts indicative of annexation, e.g. planting a flag or
reading a proclamation, and by permanently establishing
civilised inhabitants with some kind of civilised ad-
ministration upon the land.f
Other natural conditions attach to the object which
is appropriated. First, we cannot appropriate by
occupancy what already belongs to another person.
Secondly, we cannot " occupy " any object which is
necessary for the community, unless the community
freely allows occupancy in the case. This necessit}''
gives to the community a claim upon the object which
effectively bars the right of any individual to appro-
priate it in his own interest. Thirdly, since ownership
is the right of exclusive use, that which of its nature
cannot be exclusively possessed is not a fit object of
occupancj'. No man can claim to own the air, though
* Some writers maintain that the external act is sufficient without
the intention. Sec Markby, " Elements of Law," ch. IX. This view
is obviously wrong. Ownership has its rights and its responsibilities,
and neither of these can be assumed without the intention to assume
them.
t Which act is known as "settlement." All these natural con-
ditions of occupancy may of course be modified and added to by the
civil government.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 141
there are writers who claim that a man may own some
portion of space which the air occupies, that, namely,
above or, as some say, immediately above one's land.
Fourthly, since ownership is the right of use, the right
of ownership extends to objects in such quantities only
as admit of genuine use. An individual could not claim
ownership over a whole continent, but onlj^ to use the
words of Locke, over " as much as any one can make
use of to any advantage of life before it spoils." A
somewhat similar condition applies in the case of occu-
pancy by the State. The exact amount, indeed, which
a government is allowed to occupy is largely a matter
for international law to settle, and as yet international
law has not fixed the amount. But the spirit which
actuates the decisions of international law in this respect
would seem to be the same as that which has fixed the
rights of individuals. States, it would seem, are allowed
to occupy as much territory as they hope to be able to
control, if not at once, at all events in the near future.*
We said that it is no easy matter to determine the
extent of territory which it is possible for an individua
to utilise and control. It is certain, however, that
when a man effects a property in land by occupancy,
his control of it is supposed to be limited to that portion
of the land which he undertakes to use, viz. the surface
of the land. By surface land we mean such a depth of
land as can in any wa}^ influence or may be in any way
affected by operations at the surface, such as building
and planting, both of which operations produce results
or are affected by conditions existing far below the
* See Lawrence, " Principles of International Law," ch. II. sec. 74.
It was explained by the American negotiators at Madrid in the con-
troversy of 1 803-1 805 about the boundaries of Louisiana that " when
any European nation takes possession of any extent of sea-coast
that possession is understood as extending into the interior country
to the sources of the rivers emptying within that coast, to all their
branches, and the country they cover." Such, to our minds, is just
the extent of territory over which the occupation of a line of sea-
coast gives or promises some kind of effective control.
142 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
level at which the operations actually occur. We know
of no principle of natural law which would give a man
who obtains possession of a certain portion of the surface
of the earth any rights over levels that lie below those
just indicated, and certainly there is no natural law by
which surface rights are extended, as is sometimes
claimed, to the centre of the earth. The natural law
does not, indeed, set a bar to such an extent of owner-
ship. Also it is possible for the civil law to declare the
owner of the surface lands owner also of everything
to the centre, for, as we said before, the civil law is
empowered by the natural law to affix the conditions
and determine the rights effected by occupancy. But it
is well to emphasise two things in this connection — first,
that it is only as a result of civil law that property in
the surface of the earth can be understood as extending
to the centre of the earth ; secondl}^ that the wisdom
displayed by the civil governments of the world in this
connection has not always been of the highest order.
Experience and reason have both proved that it was a
mistake of English law to recognise that a man in occu-
pation of the soil was also necessarily in occupation of
the solid earth to the centre. Coal seams should never
have been deemed to belong to the mere landowner.
There have been discussions even in the case of govern-
ments on occasions of annexation as to the legitimate
occupancy of the hinterlands ; there should have been
none as to the wisdom of extending mere surface occu-
pancy to the undcrlands. Such occupancy, as we have
already said, we do not consider as barred positively
by natural law, but it was unwise of the civil law to
recognise the title of the landowner as sufficient also
for ownership of all that lies beneath.
Occupancy is not of much practical account in modern
civilised Stiitcs, since all the land of the earth is now
practically " occupied." And even such unoccupied
territories as still remain, likr Central Africa, have been
divided in such a way that the right of extension allowed
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 143
to each competing government is fixed by special
treaties or understandings. The only cases in which
occupancy is still to be regarded as an operative title
are those of the finder, fisherman, and hunter. Their
rights may easily be deduced from what has already
been said on the conditions of ownership, or they are
decided by special civil enactments in each country.
II. SUBORDINATE NATURAL TITLES — LABOUR
We have seen that labour is not the fundamental and
underived title of ownership. We must here show that,,
though subordinate and derived, labour is a genuine
title of private ownership.
By nature every man is constituted master of his own
self including his own energies, mental and physical ;
or rather nature has conferred on each of us something
which is even higher than ownership ; for in making
our energies part of our own personality she has made
them so much our own that not only have others not a
right to take them from us or use them, but they cannot
use them nor force us to use them, except we ourselves
agree. Nature, therefore, has made our energies ours,
not by moral right only, but also by physical necessity.
They are unthinkable as anybody else's. Even, says.
Locke, though the earth and all creatures were common
to all, yet one thing could in no sense be regarded as
common ; for by nature " every man has a property
in his own person. The labour of his body and the
work of his hands are properly his,"
Now it is this " ownership." if we may use the word
in a broad sense, which nature has given us over our-
selves and our energies, that gives to a man a right of
ownership over the things which his labour produces.
For just as the heat which results from the motion of a
falling body is nothing more than the kinetic energy of
that body transformed into heat energy, so the results
of a man's labour are nothing more than his own energies,.
144 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
physical and mental, transformed into the products of
energy. These energies are expended at our own bidding ;
they appear again in another form, that, viz. of the
fruits or products of labour. Being masters, therefore,
and owners of our own energies, we are owners also of
the new forms, shapes, natures — the new values generally
in which our labour results, and into which our energies
have been transformed.
Labour, therefore, is a rightful title of ownership. It
gives a man a right to the new forms and values which
his labour, mental and physical, produces ; and, granted
that by occupancy by purchase or by gift he owns
also the material in which these new forms and values
are produced, he becomes by labour owner of the rest,
and his property in the object is, therefore, complete.
GIFT
The consideration of "gift" properly belongs to the
subject of contract. Here, however, we may be allowed
to consider one important question, viz. whether " gift "
is a natural title of ownership.
Gift means the gratuitous placing of the ownership
of a thing in the hands of another. It is of two kinds —
simple gift (donatio inter vivos) and bequest. We shall
say a word on each of these, adding a short paragraph
on another natural title of ownership cognate to the
title of bequest, viz. intestate succession.*
That gift is a natural f title of ownership is evident
in the first place from the conception of ownership
* These two latter titles make up the natural title of inheritance.
t Our statement that " gift " is a natural title is in no way affected
by the fact that as Markby says (" Elements of Law," p. 248) " the
general right of alienation which now exists has been slowly and
painfully gained." Though gift is a natural right, still, like most
natural rights, its exercise is subject to the control of positive law.
The early jxjsitive laws did much to restrain the exercise of this right.
Another reason why the right of " gift " was limited in ancient times
is found in the fact that in early history property belonged rather to
the family, i.e. the family as a continuing unit, than to the father.
He, therefore, had not the right to alienate the property freely to
others.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 145
itself. Ownership is the right of disposing of a thing
as one wishes, in which right is certainly included the
power of giving it to another. Secondly, this right is
necessary for human progress. For the contract of
selling is necessary for progress, and giving is a necessary
part of and contained in selling. Selling means giving
for a price.
BEQUEST
Bequest is a declaration of a person's intentions in
regard to property designed to take effect at death.
Bequest is a natural right of property. For, first, it
is contained in the very idea of ownership. Ownership
brings with it a natural right of absolute control. But
absolute control includes the right to dispose not only
of the present but of the future use of property, and
without limit as to time. And bequest is only an
exercise of this power. Secondly, bequest is necessary
for the peace of mankind and for social development.
For, property for which there is no successor either
becomes derelict on the death of its owner, in which
case confusion and endless strife ensue ; or it passes
to the State, in which condition of things there is no
incentive to induce a man to accumulate more than is
required for his own life ; and without the accumula-
tion of capital, economic development is impossible.
Thirdly, property is, as we have already seen, primarily'
instituted by nature for the good of the family, and,
therefore, a father should at least have the right to be-
queath the family property to his wife and children.
A Difficulty.
The chief difficulty confronting one in connection with
this theory that bequest is a natural right is that the act
of bequest seems to be inherently contradictory.* The
* The objector here takes it for granted that it is only nature
that cannot deal in contradictions. The civil law it is supposed could
regard as valid the most absurd and contradictory of acts.
I
VOL. II ID
146 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
testator, it is said, is supposed to retain ownership of his
property during hfe. And after death he is not in a position
to confer ownership on another. Bequest then would seem
to be impossible.
Reply. — ^This difficulty is solved in different ways. Some
maintain that bequeathed property passes to the bene-
ficiaries not after or at, but before death, viz. during the
last moment of a man's life and, therefore, whilst he is full
owner of it. Hence the expression, " this is my last (act of)
will and testament." Under this interpretation of bequest
the contradiction referred to in the present difficulty does
not arise. Others maintain that the transference takes
place at the moment of death, not before or after : and it
is pointed out that it is only after death that a man is not in
a position to dispose of his property. It is objected to this
solution that a man cannot validly transfer property at the
moment at which he is himself losing hold of it, that to
transfer property a man should be firm holder of it at the
time of transfer. The defenders of the present solution,
however, reply — why may not transference take place at
the very same moment that a man is losing hold of his
property. In " gift " the donor loses ownership and the
donee comes into ownership at one and the same moment,
otherwise either a moment elapses in which there is no
owner, or there are two firm owners at the same moment,
both of which suppositions are impossible. Just, therefore,
as gift is a natural title in spite of the fact that the donor
is losing ownership at the moment of transfer, so also
bequest is natural under the same condition.
Either solution seems to us to answer the difficulty fully.
The transference of property in the case of bequest takes
place cither during the last moment of a man's life, or at the
moment of death. It docs not take place after death.
' INTESTATE SUCCESSION
We may be allowed to treat very briefly here of
another title to property, cognate to the title of bequest,
that, viz. of intestate succession.
That intestate succession is natural, at least in the
case of succession by the children or by the mother
and children, is proved as follows : {a) The children are
naturally the ccmtinuation of their father's personality.
This is why in nearly all civil codes the children at
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 147
least are regarded as " necessary heirs " whom it is
illegal to dispossess. They, therefore, should succeed
their father as owner. (6) In a broad sense of the word
the father holds his property as a trustee for his family,
since, as we have already seen, property is intended
by nature primarily for the family. On the death of
the father, therefore, the family will naturally succeed.
(c) The father is not a mere individual. He is nattirally
also a member of the wider unit of the family. On the
death of the father, therefore, the property should pass
automatically into the possession of that wider unit.
{d) During life a man's wife and children share in the
same social status as the father. They are, therefore,
in a sense subordinate co-proprietors with him of all
those things that determine social status, and principally
of property. At his death, therefore, they have a
claim on the property which no other persons have.
For these reasons it is evident that when a man dies
intestate his family ought to succeed by natural law.
But the same reasons can be made to prove that a man
in bequeathing his property ought not to be unmindful
of the needs of his wife and children. Even though the
father is by the civil law regarded as sole legal owner,
his wife and children have natural claims upon him that
cannot be ignored. He may, indeed, exercise some
discretion in regard to his property, but he ought at
least to leave to wife and children as much of his property
as will, with some exercise of energy on their part, open
out a road to their future prosperity. Indeed, the public
interest dictates that unless a property is in danger of
being squandered, the bulk of it should not be dis-
sociated from the family. It is mainly through the
family that property increases from age to age.
PRESCRIPTION AND ACCRETION
We feel compelled to say a word here on two special
titles of ownership which, though technically civil titles, are
yet based upon strong and compelling natural grounds.
148 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The first of these is the title of prescription* A full dis-
cussion of this title of prescription would be impossible in a
work like the present, but it is necessary to say how it stands
in relation to the civil law. Without aiming at a precise
definition of prescription we may describe it with Salmond f
as identical with the effects of lapse of time in creating and
destroying rights of ownership. Thus in England a man
may not recover at law payment of a debt six years after
it first becomes payable. A right of way over private land
is established after twenty years of de facto use. In the
civil law, therefore, it is evident that merely through the
operation of lapse of time a right or a part right of ownership
may be lost to one person and acquired by another.
Now evidently this title has its origin in the civil law
only and not in the natural law. It is not natural, because
a man's right of ownership over an object could never in
strictness be defeated by want of actual possession and lapse
of time alone. But, though nature herself does not set up
prescription as a law, she urges it most strongly upon the
civil government as something highly necessary for the
welfare of the community, and the reasons for which it is
urged by nature are as follows : (a) without laws of prescrip-
tion all ownership would be uncertain. Claimants might
arise at any time to question some past transaction in con-
nection with the transfer of property — documentary and
other evidence in defence of the owner having in the mean-
time perished or become unavailable, (b) Without prescrip-
tion contracts would be impossible. No sensible man would
take the risk of purchasing property the ownership of which
was liable to continual examination and question without
limit of time. (6) The fact of possession over a long period
is itself normally a presumption of rightful ownership. J
And this presumption is sufficient to justify the civil author-
ities in accepting actual possession over a long period as
indicative, even against arguments on the other side, of
rightful possession from the beginning.
The important question arises whether good faith is necessary
in natural law for prescription. It certainly is necessary for
• For the history and derivation of the word " prescription," sec
F. Girard, " Droit Koniain," p. 299. For difference in Roman Law
of usucapio (through which property was acquired) and praescriptio
(which was an exception barring the remedy) see Mackenzie, " Roman
Law," p. 195.
t " Jurisprudence."
X Sec Salmond " Jurisprudence," p. 416 ; also Mill, " Political
Economy/' p. 134.
PRIVATE OWNERSHIP 149
the acquiring of the complete rights of ownership over a
thing. Without good faith a mere right of way might be I'
estabhshed by lapse of time. But lapse of time could not
bestow rightful ownership over a stolen article, the true
history of which was known to the purchaser of the article
at the time of purchase. The reason is that the purchaser
of such an article is bound to make compensation to the
original owner for all losses sustained by him in respect of
this article during the time of its retention, and it is im-
possible that nature should bestow upon a man a right to
keep an object and at the same time impose an obligation
of compensation for having it in his possession. Indeed, if
any mala fide possessor could become rightful owner on the
mere title of lapse of time such title would operate as a
permanent incitement to dishonesty, since even good men
would at times be prepared to put up with a few years of
moral guilt in the hope that lapse of time would finally
lead to a right of honest possession.
Another title (accretion) technically civil, but yet based
on strong natural grounds, arises where two objects
belonging to different owners are inseparably joined. Natural
law decides nothing as to the question in whom ownership
of the joint object ought to vest. That is a question for the
civil law altogether. But in general it may be said that
the determining principle followed by the civil law in this
case is the natural principle that what is accessory ought/i
to be subordinated to, and to follow, what is principal]!
Thus in the case known as " accession " where of two things
inseparably joined no change occurs in either, e.g. a picture
printed by one person on another person's canvas, the painter
of the picture becomes owner, with, of course, an obligation
of compensating the owner of the canvas. Again, in the
case technically known as " specification " where a substance
belonging to one person is worked up by the labour of another
into something quite different and more valuable, e.g.
where grapes are turned into wine, ownership vests in the
person who produces the more valuable " form." In Roman
Law, however, it should be noted that this rule apphed only
in cases in which the old form was lost irretrievably. A
silver statue which could be melted down again to the form
of silver bullion belonged in Roman Law to the owner of
the silver.
CHAPTER V
SOCIALISM
DEFINITION
Communism is the theory that private possessions
or private property of every kind ought to be aboHshed
and the public ownership of property set up in its place.
This theory we disproved in our last chapter, showing
that from the point of view of the individual, of the
family, and of the State, private property is required by
natural law. The present chapter deals with socialism.
Socialism is also a theory of common ownership, not
common ownership of all property or possessions, but
of one kind of property only, viz. capital. It advocates
the total abolition of private ownership in capital, and
the substitution of public ownership of all capital by
the State.
By capital is understood all forms of wealth or
property used for the sake of income. And as income is,
as a rule, derivable only from property/ employed in the
production of wealth, like land,* mines, and machinery,
or in its distribution, like shops, warehouses, railways,
steamships, banks, and exchanges, so socialism is often
described as the theory of the nationalisation of all the
sources of production and distribution. This definition
we are quite content to follow in the present work, but
it does not represent the most fundamental notion in
socialism which is the nationalisation of all capital or
of all the sources of income.
Now, socialists are aware that to attempt to abolish
private ownership in all the sources of income, down to
• Some writers speak of " land and capital." We see no valid
reason for excluding the land from the notion of capital ; the reason
usually given, viz. that land is incapable of increase and, therefore,
has no supply price and easily becomes the subject of unearned
increment, only marks it out as a very special kind of capital.
150
SOCIALISM 151
the very smallest, would be a very unprofitable if not
impossible task. And so they are prepared to allow
certain exceptions to their theory that all the sources
of income should be nationalised. They will, for
instance, allow a man to own a very small garden,
provided he does not grow things to sell ; and a house-
wife to own a sewing machine to mend and even make
clothes, provided she does not take orders from outside.
Some socialists even make mention of certain small
and unimportant businesses which might, under social-
ism, be allowed to remain in private hands. Now
these are only exceptions, but they are manifestly
inconsistent with the idea of socialism, and they serve
to show how impossible socialism is, and how difficult
it is to retain the essentials of socialism once we begin
to introduce modifications into the theory so as to make
it appear in some way possible and practicable. For
where is one to draw the line ? If a man may have a
small garden for his private use, why not a hundred
acres for his private use ? If a family may own a
sewing machine, why not own machinery for the pro-
duction of all that they need ? If a huckster's shop
may remain in private hands why not a small drapery
establishment ? Extend these exceptions far enough,
and the principle of private ownership in capital re-
appears, and may dominate our whole commercial
system once more.
In the pages to follow we shall not take advantage
of this inconsistency, being anxious to discuss the theory
of socialism in the broadest spirit. The arguments,
therefore, which we shall advance in our discussion will
be found to avail not only against socialism in its strictest
sense, but even against those modified forms of the
socialist theory which allow of the retention in private
hands of those very small sources of income which we
have just mentioned.*
* Innumerable other differences exist amongst socialists of which
no account will be taken in our discussion. Some, for instance,
152 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
HISTORY OF MODERN SOCIALISM
We must ask our readers to be content with the briefest
possible reference to ancient or even early modern com-
munist or socialist systems.
Plato advocated the system not of socialism merely, but of
extreme communism, including community of all goods,
of wealth, of education. His theory was opposed by
Aristotle, who gives in his "Politics" a reasoned defence
of the system of private property.
Not all those theories which we shall select for mention
in the modern period are theories of socialism ; but those
that are not in themselves sociahstic will be found either
to have helped in creating a reaction against the capitalist
theory by emphasising certain vices of capitalism, or to
have formed part of the socialist movement by advocating
increase of State interference in industry, or organisation
on the part of the working classes, or some other part of
the socialist programme. These theories, therefore, when
not socialistic in themselves, may be regarded as having in
some sense prepared the way for socialism. With our
definition of socialism before him the reader should have no
claim that under socialism the State will be no more, others that
under socialism the State will be world-wide. Again, there are the
revolutionist and evolutionist schools of socialism which we shall
describe in the historical note to follow. But the principal differences
between socialists appertain to religion and the function and place of
the family in the community under the new regime. As to these,
one or two words are necessary. Socialist writers often complain
that critics of their system instead of confining their enquiries and
criticisms to what is essential in socialism, viz. the nationalisation of
capital, attempt to raise prejudices against the theory by attacking
certain views about marriage and religion which are in no sense a
part of socialism, but are simply private beliefs and prepossessions
defended by certain individuals who happen also to be socialists.
About this contention we have to make tlic following remarks : first,
socialists are themselves to blame for this supposed misdirected and
unfair criticism. For it is the socialists who connect up the ob-
jectionable theories here referred to (such as that all present religion
should be done away with, and that marriage should cease or underga
such grave modifications as are opposed to our present view of the
essentials of f;iniily life) with Ihe socialist sysUni, defending these
theories as part of the system and as necessary deductions from the
principle of socialism. Secondly, most critics of socialism believe
that .socialism ought to be judged as a living movement rather than
as a mere written theory, and certainly as a living movement socialism
has been and is hostile both to religion and to our present family
system. Its leaders arc as a rule actuated by the most intense hatred
of religion, and they make no secret as to their views of marriage.
Marx, Engcls, Bcbcl, Kautsky, and all the accepted authorities on
SOCIALISM 153
difficulty in determining which of the following systems are
really socialistic and which are only preparatory to socialism.
In the early modern period we find a scheme not of
socialism merely but of genuine communism developed in
the conversation of one Raphael, in Sir Thomas More's *
" Utopia." More does not himself express any adhesion
to Raphael's communism (" I cannot," he writes, " agree
and consent to all the thinges that he saide "), but he con-
fesses that in the Utopian Commonwealth there are many
things which he " wishes " but cannot " hope for." Other
Utopias appeared later, in some of which, as in that of
Campanella f in Italy, communism is advocated, whilst
others, e.g. that of Harrington J in England, recommend
at least some law fixing the amount of property one can
hold.
The theory of the equality of all men which was taught
by Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau, played no unimportant
socialism are bitterly hostile to Christianity and to Theism. Again,
the socialist bodies at their conventions adopt resolutions antagonistic
to and directed formally against Christianity and authoritative
teaching of any kind. The Austrian Socialists in May, 1898, passed
such a resolution " with thunderous applause," as the Vorwiirts reports
— (See Cathrein, " Socialism," p. 220.). The French Socialist Party
at Tours (1902) declared that " over against all religious dogmas,
and churches ... it sets the unlimited right of free thought," etc.
It demanded also " abrogation of every law establishing the civil
inferiority of women and natural or adulterine children," as well as
the introduction of " most liberal legislation on divorce " — (See
Ensor, " Modern Socialism," p. 347.). The living socialist movement
is thus definitely opposed to Christianity and the Christian teaching
on marriage, and even though a few, very few, socialist writers
repudiate the anti-Christian attitude adopted in the movement, it
is absurd to claim that socialism has no association with any other
principle than the economic principle of the nationalisation of capital.
In the present work, however, we shall confine our discussion to
this economic principle of the nationalisation of all the sources of
income, since there can be no doubt that the nationalisation of capital
is the fundamental principle, the first plank, in the programme of
socialism, and from it the other parts of the programme are made to
proceed. This is the one universally accepted tenet of socialist
writers and leaders ; and, therefore, it is rightly regarded as the true
definition of socialism. But we shall see later (p. 269) that, whatever
may be the views entertained by individual socialists, this doctrine
of the nationalisation of all capital leads on to conclusijns which are
radically opposed to our present views as to the essential laws and
attributes of the family.
* More (1480-1535).
t (1568-1639) — A Philosopher of the Italian Renaissance, born at
Calabria.
X (161 1-77) — Author of " Oceana."
154 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
part in the movement for the overthrow of capitaUsm with
its most unequal distribution of wealth, whilst Rousseau's
theory — that all our economic evils began when land was
first taken into private hands, led directly to the theory of
socialism.
Out of the French Revolution sprang a number of socialist
or communist Utopias. One of these developed by Francis
Noel Babeuf, who was guillotined in 1797 for having founded
a secret society for the promotion of his ideas, is a theory of
pure socialism. He claimed that all men should be assigned
■equal work in the State, even the disagreeable functions
being undertaken by all in turn, and that all wealth should
be under the control of the community and be distributed
to each according to his needs. Godwin * also in England
proposed a theory of pure communism.
The great social movement which led to the rise of modern
socialism may be said to have definitely begun with St,
Simon f in France. St. Simon was not a socialist, his doctrines
are genuinely capitahstic. He maintained that the State
ought to be built on an industrial basis, and that it should
be directed, not by politicians, but by capitahsts. It was
on account of his insistence on certain rights of labour,
viz. that the chief end of the State was to help the working
classes, that the State should provide work for the unem-
ployed, and should provide for their education out of the
pubhc funds, that his name is usually connected with the
socialist movement. St. Simon's disciples, however, went
much further than their master. In their works is emphasised
nearly every argument against the capitalist system which
Marx developed at a later period, e.g. the absence of freedom
in the labour contract, the evil effects of industrial crises,
and also something approaching to an " iron law of wages."
They also constructed a positive socialist system based on
these doctrines.
The " phalanx " view of labour advocated by Ch, Fourier J
• (i75r)-i836) — Author of " Political Justice."
t (1760-1825) — Born at Paris. His two principal works aro "The
Industrial System " and " The New Christianity." His principal
<lisciplcs, who, though not .so well known, really did more for the
socialist movement than was accomplished by their master, wore
itodrigucs, Enfantin, and Hazard. The two latter together wrote the
important work " ICxjKjsition of the doctrines of St. Simon."
J (i 772-1837) — IJorn at Uesan^on. His chief work is entitled
" Exposition of the Four Movements." Fourier's theories on their
economic side met with considerable commendation from John Stuart
Mill.
SOCIALISM 155
is well known. He maintained that the community should
divide itself into labour phalanxes of about 2,000 men each,
living together in " phalansteries," After each man had
been supphed with the necessaries of Hfe, the profits derived
from their labour should be divided in a certain proportion,
viz. 5/12 to labour, 4/12 to capital, 3/12 to talent. In the
phalanstery means should be taken to make all work agree-
able, a matter, Fourier tells us, that could very easily be
accomplished. But all should be made to work, and if
any little disagreeableness did still continue to attach to
certain employments those employments should be awarded
additional remuneration. Fourier would not abohsh private
property or inheritance and so he is not a socialist, but from
the doctrines that he did advocate his connection with the
socialist movement is easily understood. Marriage, as an
indissoluble union of one man and one woman, he would
abolish. His doctrines are even in the direction of free
love and community of wives — a strange theory, considering
that he would still retain the right of private property.
A further step in the development of socialism was taken
when Robert Owen * and Cabet f founded actual socialist
colonies, one at New Harmony (Indiana), the other at Texas
(Illinois). Both colonies were failures.
Louis Blanc I attacked the competitive system, and
advocated the formation of societies of co-operative pro-
duction. He even obtained government subsidies for his
work, which, however, came to nothing.
The theory that all wealth is produced by labour, ad-
vocated by Karl Rodbertus,§ and the same author's doctrine
that wages under capitalism tend to remain at their lowest
point : the conversion, by Ferdinand Lasalle,|| of the latter
principle into his celebrated " iron law of wages," viz. that
wages under capitalism tend to remain at the level barely
sufficient for the sustenance of the workman, and his
programme of labour associations for the combating of
capitahsts, all these theories evidently bring us far on the
way to socialism. The next name we meet with in the history
* {1771-1858).
t (1 788-1 856).
X (1811-1882) — Of French origin, but born at Madrid.
§ (1805-1875) — Born at Greifswald.
II (i 825-1864) — Bom at Breslau. The strength of socialism as a
living movement in Germany is probably more attributable to Lassalle
than to anybody else. Though posing as the friend of the poor,
Lassalle was a man of fashionable and luxurious habits.
156 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of the socialist movement is that of the great founder of
" scientific sociahsm " — Karl Marx.*
KARL MARX
In the course of the following chapters we shall have to
study Marx's arguments in detail. We may, however, be
allowed to give here a very brief account of the view which
is developed in his world-famed book — " Das Kapital."
Karl Marx confines his enquiry to an examination of the
present capitalistic system, making only the briefest reference
at the close of his work to the system by which capital is to
be replaced, that viz. of collective industry. The system of
capitalism, he maintains, not only ought to but will, sooner
or later, be brought to a close and be succeeded by the
system of collective industry. This claim is made to rest
on two kinds of proof, first, the historical proof — embodied in
his " materialist conception of history " ; secondly, certain
theoretical proofs, resting on certain vices inherent in
capitahsm. These two arguments are not wholly dis-
sociated by Marx, as will presently be seen. The first
argument is as follows : having shown in a previous work f
that the development of industry takes the form of an
evolutionary movement, carried out under necessary laws,
and owing nothing whatever to strictly human initiative,
that many changes which are generally attributed to direct
human design are in reality automatic results due to changes
that liave occurred in the manner of production and ex-
change ; that whereas it is usually thought that alterations
in our economic system are caused by modifications effected
in our social system, the opposite is the case, our social
system, our ideals, our wishes being themselves effects
brought about by alterations in the economic world — he
then goes on in his work on Capital to apply his theory of
evolution to the world of industr3\ Progress in industry,
he tells us, occurs after the manner of an evolution determined
by purely natural and necessary causes. In the develop-
• (1818-83) — Born at Trier in Rhenish Prussia. Like Lassalle,
Marx was of Jewish extraction.
t " Criticism of Political Economy." The " materialist conception
of history " which wc here connect with the name of Marx is found
in the fully developed form in which it is now usually presented in
a work, not of Marx himself who presents only an outline of the theory,
but of Marx's friend and collaborator Frederic lintels, named " Social-
ism, Utopian and Scientific." In this work we have a brief and very
sciciilific prcsciit.ition of the whole Marxi.iii theory.
SOCIALISM 157
ment of industry each stage is the result of the stage im-
mediately preceding. Capitalism * is itself only one of those
stages and must pass away in time as the other stages
passed. Even now it contains within itself the causes or
germs of its own dissolution. One of these " immanent
causes " whereby capitalism is to bring about its own
dissolution, and the account of which forms the chief part
of Marx's historical argument, is the ever increasing con-
centration that must necessarily occur in capital, leading
to the formation of trusts, rings, cartels, pools, a process of
concentration which is brought about by the very principle
of competitive capitalism itself, the weaker firms being
constantly forced to retire altogether or to amalgamate
with the stronger firms. This ever increasing process of
concentration, Marx tells us, must in time lead to the total
abolition of competition, and to absolute unification of all
capital in the hands, first of a very small group of individuals
or bodies, and, then, of the State. The other causes whereby
capitaHsm is to bring about its own overthrow, and which
constitute Marx's second argument, are certain evils which
are inherent in capitaHsm itself. For instance, under
capitahsm the surplus-value of labour is appropriated by
the capitalist who yet does nothing to produce it ; capitahsm
maintains a permanent army of unemployed men, the
existence of which keeps wages at their lowest level ; under
capitalism, with its want of adjustment of supply to demand,
crises are unavoidable, and so on. The future of the system
is thus described by Marx f : " Along with the constantly
diminishing number of the magnates of capital who usurp
and monopolise all advantages of the process of transforma-
tion, grows the mass of misery, oppression, slavery, degrada-
tion, exploitation ; but with this, too, grows the revolt of
the working class, a class always increasing in numbers, and
disciplined, united, organised by the very mechanism of
the process of capitalist production itself. The monopoly
of capital becomes a fetter upon the mode of production
which has sprung up and flourished along with and under
it. Centralisation of the means of production and socialisa-
tion of labour at last reach a point where they become
incompatible with their capitalist integument. This in-
tegument is burst asunder, the knell of capitalist private
* This part of the argument dealing with concentration, which
is given and criticised in the first place in our work, is presented by
Marx after the arguments dealing with the evils of capitalism.
t " Capital," I. 789.
158 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
property sounds. The expropriators are expropriated."
On the same page Marx also informs us that this process of
expropriation will require an incomparably shorter time for
its completion than did the process by which capitalism was
itself developed out of the system that preceded it.*
Marx did not himself attempt to formulate any scheme of
collective industrialism. He was content to show that
collectivism in some form must arrive. This second task
of construction was undertaken by Schaeffle in his " Quintess-
ence of Socialism," a work which, although not written in
defence of collectivism, has been, nevertheless, accepted by
all socialists as a sound and reliable exposition (a few points
excepted) of the form which the coUectivist State must
necessarily assume whenever it appears.
Schaeffle' s f positive scheme of collectivism may be
briefly summarised as follows : the system of private capital
is to be replaced by that of collective capital : nevertheless,
just as under capitalism, so also under socialism, freedom of
demand is to be the guiding principle of trade, i.e. com-
modities will be produced as they are required and not
merely as government desires : this will require " statistical
registration of the free wants of individuals and of families "
periodically arranged, a task apparently of great difficulty ;
but it will be considerably lightened by the fact that under
sociahsm luxuries will not be required, luxuries being a
need only for people of excessive wealth — a class that will
not exist under socialism : under socialism coinage must
cease, J commodities being paid for by labour certificates
to be earned by labour ; labour, or, to be more precise,
" socially useful " labour, will thus be made, what, he main-
tains, in actual fact it is, the true norm of value : again.
• The diflference between Marx's system and those that preceded
it arc described in a characteristic and interesting way by his friend
and co-worker, I-'rcderick Kngds, in the well-known work, " Socialism,
Utopian and Scientific," already referred to. The pre-Marxian
theories he describes as Utopian, i.e. they represented ideal systems
devised for ideal men, systems whicli could only be imposed on society
front without (p. 12). Marx's socialism is scientific, i.e. Marx studies
society as it is. He studies the classes which compose it, and in the
economic conditions of society itself he discovers the means by which
the antagonisms of the cla-sses are to be ended (p. 42) and the socialist
State brought into being.
t A. E. I'". Schaefile (1831-1903), Ixirn at Wllrttembcrg ; Professor
of I'olitical Science at University of Vienna, and also at one time
Minister of l-inance for Austria.
J On this ix)int most socialists {e.g. Kautsky) diifer from Schaeffle.
SOCIALISM 159
since only socially useful labour is to count as a title to
reward, it will be for the State to induce men to turn their
labour to useful purposes, by raising or lowering the price
of labour according as it is more or less socially useful. It
is generally beheved that under sociahsm each man will be
obliged to do the work appointed to him by the State, without
any exercise of choice on his part. This idea is quite
erroneous, Schaeffle tells us. Under socialism there will be
" no compulsory assignment of posts." But there will be
inducement and encouragement on the part of the State,
in order that the necessary work may be performed.* " If
socialism," he writes, " is not able to preserve all the good
points of the liberal system such as freedom of labour and
domestic supply ... it has no prospect of, and no claims
to, realisation."
The later history of the socialist movement concerns not
the end or purpose of socialism, which we may now regard
as fixed, but questions of means and tactics alone. On the
one hand there is the revolutionary school in agreement with
Marx, and led by such men as Kautsky f in Germany,
Gucsde X in France, and Hyndman in England. These
writers beheve in revolution, not in the sense of a bloody
revolution, but in the sense of compulsory overthrow of
the present system. The means to this end are the strike,
and mastery of the pohtical machine. Violence will be
resorted to only in the end and only to put down resistance
on the part of the masters. § On the other hand there is
the evolutionist or reformist standpoint of which the most
noted representative is Bernstein. || The evils, he claims,
which Marx enumerates are largely imaginary. Sociahsm
* Schaeffle does not tell us how this is to be accomplished. For
an examination of this most difficult part of the socialist programme
see p. 254 of present volume.
f Kautsky 's best and most interesting works are " Le Marxisme
et son Critique Bernstein " — his principal work, written in 1899,
" The Social Movement," and " On the Morrow of the Social
Revolution."
X See " Le Catechisme Socialiste."
§ Kautsky maintains that the growth of socialism is like that
of the child in the womb, slow and quiet, but that the end will be
in some degree violent and catastrophic like the birth of the child.
II Bernstein's work is entitled " Evolutionary Socialism." Other
thinkers of the reformist or evolutionist school are Millerand (" Le
Socialisme RMormiste "), Jaures (" Studies in Socialism "), Vander-
velde (" Le CoUectivisme et I'Evolution Industrielle "), Webb, and
the Fabians.
i6o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
is certainly an end to be striven for, not as a mere remedy
for existing ills, but as something good in itself ; not by
miserable men such as it is supposed capitalism produces,
but by successful and happy men. And men are, according
to Bernstein, even under capitalism, gradually attaining to
that degree of welfare and independence which will fit them
for the advent of socialism. The advent of socialism will,
accordingly, be brought about, not by way of reaction
against, but by a gradual process of development and im-
provement within, the existing system. What, therefore,
should most interest the socialist is the question of the ends
that may be immediately obtained, for instance, the develop-
ment of co-operative associations, the promotion of particular
municipal and national industries, the institution of labour
syndicates, particularly in such a form as will give to labour
control of the political machine ; and, finally, progressive
taxation. But all these efforts should be made in view of
the true end of socialism, which is the full and final con-
centration of all capital in the hands of the State.
We cannot bring this brief historical survey to a close
without saying one word on Syndicalism. Syndicalism is
said to be the newest development of the socialist move-
ment, but it is in many respects a departure from ordinary
socialist principles. According to the syndicalists the old
socialist movement is weakening, mainly because of its
reliance on Parliament ; syndicalism relies on the inherent
strength of labour alone. It advocates the ownership of
all the means of production, not by the State as a whole,
wliich is the aim of sociaHsm proper, and not even by the
labour element generally, but by the trades-unions. Each
trades-union is to be owner of its particular industry ; the
boiler-makers, for instance, all over tlie United Kingdom are
to be complete masters of all their works ; the iron-workers
as a body are to have full control and ownership of their
own businesses. For each department of industry there is
to be one great union and that union is to own the capital
in the working of which it is specially concerned.* The
method whereby the present system is to be overthrown,
and trades-union ownership put in its place, is that of the
general strike. Syndicalism, as the reader will have observed,
is not to be distinguished from socialism. It is socialism in
as much as it denies the right of private ownership in industrial
• Whether each of these unions is to be national or international
is not quite settled ; but syndicalists generally aim at internationalism.
SOCIALISM i6i
capital and in everything appertaining to industrial capital.
Its distinguishing features are, first, that it emphasises the
necessity of departmental ownership within the general
system of public ownership, of certain centres of ownership
in the general socialistic scheme, viz. ownership by the
trades-unions : in other words syndicalism is simply a form
of federal socialism ; secondly, it advocates the adoption
of a special policy (viz. the general strike) for the establish-
ment of this federal socialism.
In the pages to follow we shall address ourselves in the
first place to the Marxian arguments and then to the socialist
principle itself. No doubt there are sociahsts, like Bernstein,
who have rejected the Marxian arguments. But these
arguments cannot be ignored. For, first, they represent
the only serious attempt of socialist writers to show that
capitaUsm has inherent vices, which may be palliated by
various means, but which can be eradicated from human
society only by the total abolition of capitalism. The
Marxian arguments, therefore, constitute the true and
essential ground of the sociahst system. Secondly, many
members even of Bernstein's reformist school * make frequent
appeal to the Marxian arguments. Finally, it is the Marxian
arguments that find most frequent mention on public
sociahst platforms, and that make the most urgent appeal
to the understanding and sympathies of the labour world.
Our criticism of syndicahsm will consist in showing, first,
that there is a right of individual private capital, second,
that the general strike is unlawful. f
THE GROUNDS OF SOCIALISM
Our discussion on socialism in the present and following
four chapters divides itself naturally into two parts.
First, we must consider the grounds of socialism ;
secondly, the merits and demerits of socialism con-
sidered in itself. The grounds of socialism enumerated
by Marx are, as we said, of two kinds. First, there
are certain reasons developed in connection with his
materialistic view of history ; secondly, there are certain
* e.g. Vandervelde, op. cit. and Millerand, op. cit
t The first point is covered in our chapters on socialism ; the second
in our special chapter on strikes.
VOL. II — II
i62 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
inherent evils in capitalism, which, it is asserted, can
only be removed by the abolition of capitalism and the
substitution in its place of the socialist system of col-
lective industry. The present chapter will be devoted
to the discussion of Marx's materialistic view of history.
In the chapter following we shall consider the argument
based on the supposed vices of capitalism.
The Materialistic View of History
It will be necessary in our discussion of the present
argument to differentiate carefully between those points
in Marx's view of history which are either irrelevant or of
secondary importance, and what is really essential for
purposes of our present discussion. It will not be
necessary here to discuss the theory of determinism on
which Marx bases his philosophy of history. We do
not believe that the old problem of freedom versus.
determinism affects the present question one way of
another. There are socialists who are libertarians, and
defenders of capitalism who are not, so that we think it
right to spare the reader the trouble of entering at this
point into a preliminary abstract discussion on freedom.
Again, it will not be necessary to discuss the problem
raised by Marx whether our social system is the result
of economic needs and activities, or, vice versa, whether
economic needs and activities result from social institu-
tions. Even if we did believe with Marx that men's
economic needs were the most fundamental factor in the
development of human institutions, the question would
still remain whether socialism is lawful and whether
it is a good and useful economic system or the opposite.
But on no principle can we avoid the discussion of the
very serious problem which next follows in Marx's
argument on history, namely, whether under the influence
of forces inherent in capitalism itself, the capital of the
world is not being slowly concentrated in fewer and
fewer hands, whether a time must not fmally arrive
when all capital will be owned by one or a few indi-
SOCIALISM 163
viduals, whether, in short, the competitive capitahst
system is not slowly breaking down under the opera-
tion of forces inherent in capitalism itself, and whether
it must not finally disappear. The weaker and smaller
industries, says Marx, are disappearing and must con-
tinue to disappear. The lesser undertakings are being
and must continue to be absorbed in the greater. The
greater are amalgamating with one another and must
continue to do so in their own interest. Thus the
" magnates of capital " are growing fewer and fewer.
After a certain period competition will have wholly
passed away. The handing over of ownership by the
last few monopolists to the community should not lie
beyond the resources of statesmanship ; if it does, the
proletariat will not fail to accomplish what statesman-
ship shall have failed to achieve. This theory we shall
now proceed to examine with such a degree of fullness
as the scope of our work allows.
THE LAW OF INCREASING CONCENTRATION IN THE OWNER-
SHIP OF CAPITAL
Our discussion on this point will be divided as follows :
I. It will be proved that the smaller industries are
not disappearing wholly, or even in very great measure.
II. That even in the large industries there is no
tendency to unlimited concentration such as Marx
describes.
III. That even if there existed in the world of industry
a tendency to unlimited concentration, socialism need
still not be regarded as the inevitable goal of industrial
progress. Between such tendency and the continuance
of capitalism there is no opposition of any kind.
I. The smaller industries not disappearing.*
Two questions must here be kept apart, that of the
land and that of other industries and concerns.
* It should be remembered our present contention is not vital
to our theory in favour of capitalism. Even if all the smaller
i64 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The land, taken as a whole, shows no tendency to
concentrate in fewer and fewer hands. In one country
there will be an increase of large or medium- sized
holdings at the expense of the smaller or very small
holdings : in another country an opposite tendency is
discoverable. Taken altogether, it is generally admitted
even by socialists themselves that very little, if any,
concentration of ownership occurs in land.
In England,* between the years 1885-95 there was a large
increase in the number of holdings of from five to fifty acres,
fifty to one hundred, one hundred to three hundred. There
was a decrease in the number of holdings described as large
and very large.
In Germany, Bernstein tells us, between the years 1882
and 1895 the relatively greatest increase was in the number
of peasant medium-sized holdings (12I-50 acres) : and, lest
it might be thought that these small and medium-sized
holdings occupy only an insignificant portion of the total
agricultural area, he points out that in Germany somewhat
" over two-thirds of the total area fall under the three
categories of peasant farms," i.e. very small, small, and
medium-sized holdings, whilst in Prussia they occupy nearly
three-fourths.
In Holland the statistics of the years 1884-93 show large
increases in the number of farms of all sizes below those of
125 acres. Decreases occur in the number of larger holdings.f
In France, between 1862 and 1882, the number of holdings
of 12^ to 25 acres increased by 24%.
Writing of America, Sombart tells us % that " the average
area of a farm in 1850 was 61.5 acres ; in i860, 51.9 acres ;
in 1870, 53.7 acres ; in 1880, 53.1 acres ; in 1890, 57.4 acres ;
and in 1900, 49.4 acres. There is no sign of concentration
here."
In Ireland the whole land movement of the last forty years
was towards the establishment of peasant owners, in place of
the previous large estates parcelled out among mere tenants.
The breaking up of what we call the large ranches is still
further (evidence of the decentralising tendency of land-
ownership in Ireland.
businMses were to disappear there would still be competition amongst
the larger owners.
• Bernstein, " Evolutionary Socialism," ch. II.
t Bernstein, op. cit.
J " Socialism and the Social Movement," p. 7O.
SOCIALISM 165
These instances need not be added to, nor need we
enter into a discussion of what they convey, since
socialists are all agreed that whatever may be said of
industry, the land at all events shows no tendency to
concentration. "If we consider merely the statistics,"
writes Kautsky,* " of the area of the different holdings
it would seem that agriculture does not change : it is
at a stand-still." He goes on, indeed, to show that
the land is gradually becoming more tributary to, and
dependent on, industry, that the masters of industry
now aim at becoming owners of the land, or of such of
it as will furnish them with the raw materials of their
work, and that in this indirect way, since industry is
concentrating, so ownership in the land may also be
regarded as concentrating. But even if the land were
coming in great measure to be owned (which it is not)
by the masters of industry, our contention would still
remain that ownership in land is not becoming cen-
tralised. The number of holdings is not decreasing but
is rather increasing, whatever may be the cause.
Let us now attempt to deal with other mdusiries and
concerns than those connected with the land.f But
before dealing with the question whether increase or
decrease has taken place in the smaller industries or
whether they tend to disappear or become merged in
the larger industries, it will be well to point out that it
is easy for the imagination to be overwhelmed by the
accounts sometimes given by socialists of the capital
that is gradually coming to be owned or controlled by
the great industries and concerns, by trusts, rings, and
companies ; and that a false idea may very easily
* " Le Marxisme," p. 141.
t The question whether the smaller industries are disappearing
is really identical with the question whether the total number of
existent industries is lessening to a very marked degree. If it is
lessening this can only occur, the socialists explain, through the
disappearance of the smaller industries. That is why our present
discussion is devoted to the question of increase or decrease in the
total number of industrial concerns.
166 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
arise of the actual proportion which trust or company
capital bears to the vast capital that remains, even in
the most trust-ridden countries, in the hands of small
owners. Thus M. Vandervelde lays stress on the fact
that the trusts in United States of America (of which
there were 353 in May, iqoo), represented a capital of
nearly two thousand million pounds. With such an
enormous amount of capital absorbed by the trusts it
would seem to the superficial observer that very little
capital was left for private enterprise. The true
significance of the figures, however, is only understood
when we remember that in the same year the total
capital of the United States represented a sum of i8|
thousand million pounds which four years later was
increased to 22 1 thousand millions.* The trusts, of
course, also increased in the same period, but it is to
be remembered always that the trusts are very far from
absorbing all or nearly all the working capital of the
State. We have taken the case of America because it
is the country in which conditions are most favourable
to the formation of trusts. In his address on American
Trusts in 1899, Prof. Ashley says that in that year
" hardly a day passed without the formation of some
new Trust." In other countries, however, the capital
of the trusts and companies represents an even smaller
fraction of the total available capital of the country. In
Germany the total capital in 1908 was sixteen thousand
million pounds. f The paid-up capital of the various
companies (only a portion of which could be regarded
as akin to trusts) was in 1906 not a thousand millions.
Accordingly when we hear of the immense sums that
sometimes stand to the credit of the trusts and great
companies we must not let our imaginations be deceived
and think that there can only be a small margin left to
be used by private capitalists. In estimating the value
of the trust possessions we must consider not only their
• Webb, " Dictionary of Statistics," p. 631.
t Ibid. p. 630.
SOCIALISM 167
value regarded in themselves, but their value also in
relation to the total capital of the nation.
Let us now go on to treat of the question of fact raised
by the socialists, viz. whether the smaller industries
and other undertakings are everywhere disappearing or
being absorbed by the very large ; or, which is the same
thing, whether the total number of industrial and other
undertakings is gradually shrinking, and tending to
reach a small minimum, if not to come to something
approaching to unity.
Now it would be idle to deny that in the future, as
in the recent past, the greater undertakings (la grande
exploitation) are bound to assume a more important
role in the commercial world, relatively to the smaller.*
The reasons for this fact will be given later. Still the
evidence of statistics as well as reason itself makes it
clear that whilst in certain kinds of undertakings there
is a tendency to concentration, in others the tendency is
of an opposite kind, so that on the whole it cannot be said
that undertakings are subject to any law of shrinkage,
and certainly not to the extent described by socialists ;
and, therefore, it cannot be said that the smaller under-
takings are condemned by economic law to complete or
almost complete annihilation. Let us take the case of
a country not in any way unfavourable to the formation
of large undertakings, viz. German^-. In Germany the
number of principal f undertakings was 3,144,457 in
the year 1895, the number of persons employed in
them being over ten millions. In 1907 the number of
* We have already said that even if all the smaller industries were
to disappear our commercial system would still be competitive and
capitalistic just as now.
t Hauptbetriebe or undertakings which employ persons who
obtain therein the main part of their earnings, as opposed to Neben-
betriebe or subordinate undertakings which are only a supplementary
source of income. We should point out that, just as there was increase
in the principal undertakings mentioned above, so there was increase
n the two classes taken together. The total number of undertakings
in both classes together in 1895 was 3,658,088 ; in 1907 it was 4,025,591.
What are here called " principal " undertakings (the word is used in
the statistical tables) include, of course, both large and small businesses.
i68
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
principal undertakings was 3,423,645, and the number
of persons employed over fourteen millions.* In spite,
therefore, of an undeniable increase, which can be seen
in the statistical tables, in the number of large under-
takings it is not easy to see that the period of years,
1895-1907, exhibits any unequivocal tendency towards
complete centralisation or towards centralisation at all.
But, lest it might be thought that in point of the
numbers employed, the increase that has taken place in
the number of large or very large undertakings is of
much greater importance than that exhibited by under-
takings of small or medium size, and that, therefore,
the increase of small undertakings is overshadowed by
that of the larger, we give the following detailed table
for Prussia, a part of Germany which is most favourable
to the larger firms. f
"The figures," writes Bernstein, "of the (German)
Imperial census of 1907 are not yet known, so far as the
development in regard to size is concerned. But the figures
for Prussia are known and they can be taken as a fair average
for the whole Empire. They show for industry and commerce
together (without railways, post, and telegraphs) the follow-
ing figures : —
Establishments
Numbers
Persons Employed
1895
1907
1895 1907
quite small (i person
only)
1,029,954
955,707
1,029,954
955,707
small (2-5 persons)
593,884
767,200
1,638,205
2,038,236
medium {6-50 persons) .
108,800
154,300
1,390,745
2,109,164
great (51-100 persons) .
10,127
17,287
1,217,085
2,095,065
very great (501-1,000
persons) .
380
602
261,507
424,587
giant (5,001 persons and
over)
191
371
338,585
710,253
1,743,336
1,895,467
5,876,081
8,333,012
• Webb, op. cit., p. 317.
t Bernstein, " Evolutionary Socialism," p. 57, note.
SOCIALISM 169
In this table it is only the " garret-workers," the
quite small or very small enterprises that show a de-
crease. In the case of the small, medium-sized, and
great industries, the increase in the number of persons
employed is greater than that which occurs in connection
with the very great and giant industries. But if the
small, medium-sized and great industries, or even the
two latter, continue to increase in number, then it is
absurd to think that competitive capitalism is disap-
pearing from our midst or that our present system is
moving towards anything in the nature of an all-absorb-
ing monopoly.
We make no apology for the following lengthy quota-
tion from a well-known socialist writer * on the relation
of the Marxian theory to actual fact : —
" Marx over-estimated the speed at which capital tended
to concentrate. The pre-capitalist forms are not swept
away as rapidly as Marx thought, nor do the giant organisa-
tions make such general progress as he foreshadowed, even
in those branches of industry where the tendencies in that
direction are great. To-day in Germany, according to the
last census, there are (leaving out all agricultural pursuits)
4,770,669 persons employed in small estabhshments, i.e.
establishments employing one to five persons. When we
remember that the whole industrial army numbers some
ten million people, it is apparent that the employees in
' small ' establishments number nearly half. This refers to
industry alone. In commercial pursuits the proportion is
about two-thirds. Indeed, between 1882 and 1895 there
was an increase of 10 per cent, in the population connected
with the ' small ' industrial concerns, and in commerce the
increase in the corresponding class was nearly 50 per cent,
for the same period. The conditions in other lands are the
same.'\
" Some scholars have rightly asserted . . . that these
' small businesses ' are really dependent on capitalism.
* Werner Sombart, Professor of Political Economy at the Handel-
shochschule in Berlin — " Socialism and the Socialist Movement "
(1909), p. 74-
t Italics ours.
170 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Even so their existence stands in the way of complete ac-
ceptance of Marx's theory of concentration. The same
holds good with regard to the development of capitalist
undertakings. The concentration here is a much slower
process than Marx assumed. It is true that the large con-
cerns increase much more quickly than those of middle
size, partly at the expense of the latter.* But the middle-
sized ones still continue. In 1895 there were almost as
many people employed in these (again leaving agriculture
out of account) as in the large ones — two and a half against
three millions. From 1882 to 1895 there was an increase
in them of over 76 per cent., which was almost as large as
the increase in the ' large ' concerns — over 88 per cent."
We claim, therefore, that experience and actual
statistics do not favour the view that under the capitalist
system the smaller industries are doomed to total or
nearly total extinction.
And what experience and actual fact attest is borne
out also by our reason. It is most unlikely that the
smaller businesses should ever disappear automatically
or solely under stress of competition. For, first, the
large businesses themselves create the necessity for
certain smaller accessory trades and concerns which
are in very many cases f better undertaken by other
independent persons. They are better undertaken by
independent firms, first, because the quality of the work
may be such as requires specialisation, as in the wooUen
trade where, as Hobson says, " strong differences of
quality occur " giving rise to " much specialisation " :
and secondly, because no business firm could afford to
allow its work to become too complex — " we must
conclude," writes Hobson, " that as for every class of
business there exists at any given time a normal size
•The reader must still remember what wc stated, p. 163, that
even if only the hirj^e undertakings survived they might still be as
competitive as present concerns are.
t In some cases, especially the American trusts, a single business
will combine dilferent proces.ses ; but, as wo show in the text, this is
far from general. Sec Hobson, " Evolution of Captialism," oh. VI.
2, 3 ; ch. Vlll. li.
SOCIALISM 171
of maximum efficiency, so there exists a normal degree
of complexity." Thus no railway company would
attempt to make all those things that are required for
the construction of engines and carriages. Specialisa-
tion then is an absolute necessity in the case of innumer-
able branches of industry. Secondly, a great number
of trades are better adapted for small industries than
for large, e.g. certain kinds of wood- or leather-work,
particularly those of the more artistic type, photography,
the making of delicate instruments. Thirdly, there are
innumerable departments of trade in which some degree
of proximity, of producer to consumer is a necessity,
for instance, bakeries, confectioneries, laundries, dairies ;
to some extent proximity has also its advantages for
tailor, shoemaker, and saddler ; the warehouse in all
departments must be near to the consumer. In all
such cases the tendency is of necessity not in the direc-
tion of unification. Fourthly, in all departments of
trade care and energy are a necessity, and these are
more easily secured in businesses of small compass, and
will enable the smaller firm to compete successfully with
those of very large dimensions, even in spite of the many
advantages attaching to large-scale industry.
Let us enunciate the conclusions to which we are
led on the question of the fate of the small industries.
In many departments, it is to be admitted, it is necessary
that the smaller businesses should disappear as unable
to stand the strain of competition with, or undertake
the work possible to, the larger firms. But in other
departments the smaller businesses remain and are
|likely to remain, not, as E. Vandervelde describes them,
IS inferior, stagnant, miserable, and wholly accidental
incumbrances, but as a valuable and substantive portion
)f our economic system. It would be difficult to give
mything of the nature of a rule showing the kinds of
)usiness that tend to concentration, and those that
resist absorption with or destruction by the mammoth
172 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
firms. But taking the census statistics of the United
States in 1900 and in 1905 * it is possible to show in
what particular factory-industries increase occurred in
the number of firms, and where decrease is shown.
It is impossible, of course, to say whether these increases
and decreases denote permanent tendencies. The facts
are, however, that increases occurred in the number of
factory-industries in connection with the following :
food and kindred products ; cotton textiles ; worsted
textiles ; iron, steel and other products ; paper and
printing ; liquors and beverages ; chemical and allied
products ; tobacco ; miscellaneous. Decreases occurred
in connection with woollen textiles ; lumber and pro-
ducts ; leather and products ; clay, glass and stone
products ; vehicles for land transport ; ship-building.
It will be seen that the former class of factory-industry
is not less important than the latter. Indeed, if we
might judge by the number of hands employed by those
industries where increases occurred in the number of
firms, as compared with the number of hands employed
where decreases occurred, the advantage in point of
the number of men emplo^'ed is with the former. Thus
in 1905 the total number of wage-earners employed in
the former class of firms was a little below three millions,
whilst those employed in the latter class numbered less
than two millions. In Germany (here the statistical
tables cover a wider range of undertakings than factory-
industries) we find that between the years 1895 and
1907 increases in the number of undertakings occurred
in gardening ; cattle-rearing and fishing ; mining ;
engineering ; chemical industries ; foods ; cleaning ;
building ; commercial ; transport (excluding railways,
poHt, and telegraphic) bu.siness ; hotels and restaurants.
Decreases occurred in (juarrying, metal working,
textiles, woodworking, clothing. The number of persons
• Webb, op, cit. 322. In the comparison that follows wo have
not made any arbitrary selection of mdustries for the purpose o£
c-Htabliiiliing our own contention. We simply take the full list ol
industries as given by Webb in his statistical tables.
SOCIALISM 173
employed in the first set of undertakings was (in 1907)
nearly nine millions ; that in the second class was
nearly five millions. The least conclusion to be drawn
is that the departments in which concentration is not
the rule, are not to be regarded as insignificant as com-
pared with those in which concentration appears.
As to the future it would be difficult to make any
prophecy. In some cases the smaller industries may
disappear and monopolies may easily be effected. For
instance, only the very largest firms are capable of
building battleships. On the other hand, in hotels, in
spite of the growth of large establishments, the smaller
and medium-sized establishments must continue to
increase. But, whatever the future may bring, it is
certain that the statistics to hand afford no proof that
at present, in spite of the long period which has elapsed
since Marx made his prophecy, the tendenc}^ of industry
is in the direction of the total or almost total elimination
of the smaller businesses.*
II. The tendency, even amongst the larger industries,
is not in the direction of unlimited centralisation.
This proposition means that even if there are, inherent
in industry, certain tendencies. towards greater centralisa-
tion, and even if the smaller businesses were to disap-
pear, being absorbed in the large businesses, a point
is uniformly reached where tendencies of an opposite
kind appear which check and hinder further centralisa-
tion.
At the outset let us explain that we are here dealing
* The reader will find replies to some of our arguments in Kautsky's
" Le Marxisme." For instance, Kautsky claims that Marx did not
predict an absolute decrease in the number of capitalists, but only
a relative decrease, i.e. that they would decrease in proportion to
the population. This contention is quite incorrect. Marx goes so
far as to tell us that " one capitalist alwaj's kills many," which certainly
means absolute decrease. Also it is only on the theory of absolute
decrease that we can understand his theory that as the number of
capitalists decreases the exploitation of the workman grows.
174 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
with noiTnal healthy competition only. We are trying
to determine the inhere7it natural tendency of competitive
capitalism, and the natural tendency of anything can
only be determined by reference to normal healthy
subjects. The business of a bankrupt, careless, or
inefficient trader has no other tendency but to disappear,
and to promote unification of ownership by its own
disappearance. Also a very strong firm may under
certain circumstances be able to knock out a very weak
one.* But these cases do not prove that capitalism
as such tends to disappear, or that the number of
capitalists by a law of capitalism tends to shrink io
unity, just as it does not follow that because a weak
man dies or a strong man may kill him, therefore^
humanity tends to disappear. The question which we
have here to answer is whether it is possible to discover
any law whereby healthy and efficient firms tend,
without limitation, to become reduced in numbers by
amalgamation and the formation of single monopolies.
Some writers maintain that such a law exists — a law,,
namely, of further and further concentration and ex-
tension, many large firms uniting to form still larger
firms,! until finally a monopoly is effected. This law
of monopoly-formation, it is stated, is based on the
fact that in business all men seek their own advantage,
and, it is contended, in business the advantages are all
on the side of concentration. The following are some
of these advantages : {a) in the purchase of raw materials
or of machinery, etc., the bigger the purchase the lower
the price ; {h) the larger the consignment of goods, the
lower the freightage ; (r) the larger the concern, the
• This is the way in which Marx conceived the shrinkage in the
number of owners to be principally brought about. The more up-to-
date socialists lay emphasis rather on voluntary aggregation of
industries under stress of competition and the desire of traders to
increase profits by lessening expenses.
t The reader should remember that we have now done with the
(|ucstion whether the small and very small firms tend to disappear.
Our present discussion is whether amongst larger concerns there is a
tendency to greater concentration.
SOCIALISM 175
smaller, relatively, are the fixed charges ; the staff of
employees, e.g. will relatively not be so great, adver-
tising not so necessary ; (d) the larger the revenue the
higher the efficiency of the plant it is possible to acquire ;
{e) the greater the reserve of capital the longer it is
possible to wait for more opportune and better markets ;
(/) a monopoly, whilst it can depress the price of raw-
material, can also inflate that of the manufactured
article ; {g) finally, some one firm is always sure to be
stronger than the rest, and it cannot be an advantage
to the weaker ones to stand up permanently against it —
they must in the end succumb.* These arguments would
seem to establish the view that industry is subject to
certain forces making for unlimited concentration.
But though the existence of such a tendency is certain,
nevertheless both reason and experience impel us to
believe that in industry and commerce there are certain
counter tendencies at work that check and hinder
centralisation, sometimes even leading to disintegration
in a hitherto unified business.
{a) The principal factor in the second or decentralising
group of influences is psychological in character. Men
are naturally possessed of a stubborn desire to retain
their possessions in their own hands and not to relinquish
them or entrust them to the care of another for any
prospective advantage, however apparently certain.
There is always risk and uncertainty in throwing in one's
lot with others. The apparently most efficient partner
often fails to come up to promise. In partnerships
there are often divided and opposing interests. The
[man, therefore, who has put much of his own energies
land savings into a concern is not easily induced to
[share it with another. He will prefer to keep it in his
* Although this last argument does not really fall within the
terms of our discussion which refers rather to healthy, prosperous
concerns than to others, still we are sure that some reference to the
latter will not be disallowed by the reader.
176 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
own hands, even with the sacrifice of possible gain. But
apart altogether from the danger inherent in amalgama-
tion with others, it is certain that men of energy and
enterprise will alwaj^s prove to be natural enemies to
concentration, unless, indeed, it be concentration under
themselves. Homo faber fortunae sitae is as true in
industry as in any other branch of human activity.
Even, therefore, if the temptation to amalgamation
should ever arise, the sense of mastership and of creative
power in the handling and development of one's own
business will always serve amongst the best business
men to counteract such tendencies, and to hinder the
formation of common, as opposed to individual private
firms ; (6) efficiency and extent of business are often
found to be in inverse ratio ; (c) this is particularly
true of cases in which profits depend on the intensity of
the labour applied rather than upon the extent of the
possessions owned ; [d) where the work of a firm is
marked by some special advantage or excellence there
is generally no tendency towards amalgamation with
other firms, except as a result of accident. These
special excellences may arise from a variety of causes,
such as the possession of a special patent ; long-standing
tradition in those finer kinds of work in which good
instinctive judgment is required ; some particular
quality of soil or water ; proximity to a mine, or port,
or quarry ; all these circumstances may act as an
incentive to hinder concentration : {e) where the capital
cost is small as in the tin industries of Wales, and where
the raw materials can be purchased by one firm as
cheaply as by another, any rise in prices or profits which
a monopoly may bring must necessarily attract others
into the market, and even the prospect of this occurring
will act as a preventive of amalgamations and conse-
quently of monopolies ; * (/) finally, there is the possibility
of active interference on the part of the community,
which will never allow the crushing process to go beyond
• Levy, " Monopoly and Gjmpctition/' p. 276.
SOCIALISM 177
a certain point. The vast unpopularity which trusts
have already incurred shows that the populace are
not going to acquiesce in total subjection to financier
or set of financiers or to business bosses controlling the
whole country. The love of liberty and independence
which is one of the great obstacles to socialism has thus
already done much to bar the process of complete
unification on which socialists have counted as their
chief source of hope for the final abolition of capitalism.
ARGUMENTS IN FAVOUR OF UNLIMITED CONCENTRATION
ANSWERED
Our statement (given on p. 174) as to the advantages of
the very large business, needs to be corrected in many ways
in order to be brought into harmony with the facts. In
the process of extending a business it is possible to reach a
point where advantage ceases and disadvantage begins.
Let us take these supposed advantages in order. First, large
purchases, it is said, can be made at smaller prices. Now
this is only generally true. As often as not the larger the
purchase the higher the price that must be paid. It is
easy enough to buy up a small plot of ground ; but the man
who wishes to buy up all the land in a district might have
to pay a heavy price per acre for his purchase. And such a
rise in price, where a monopoly is being established, may
occur even in the case of commodities not limited in quantity
as the land is. Professor Ely in his work, " Monopohes and
Trusts," * narrates how a daring Chicago operator in attempt-
ing to capture the whole available market in a certain com*
modify was ruined by having the price raised on him during
the operation of purchase. Again, a monopoly may force
the producer of raw materials to sell at an extraordinarily
low price, but only provided that the raw materials are not
themselves in the hands of another monopoly. The multi-
phcation of monopohes in alHed businesses may harden
prices as well as lowering them. Secondly, it is contended
that the large consignments involve lower freightage. But
this is true only for a very limited increase in the amount
of the consignment. A man pays less per ton for a consign-
ment of ten tons than for a consignment of one. But the
* p. 164. We are much indebted to Prof. Ely's work for much
of the matter of this section.
VOL. II — 12
178 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
rate per waggon on a railway is, as a rule, the same whether
one sends twenty waggons or only two. Thirdly, there is
the question of the fixed charges. It is certain that some of
these must diminish or perhaps disappear with the formation
of monopolies. The need of advertising and of travellers
will certainly be less. In other respects it is found that the
fixed charges may even increase with the size of the concern.
The system of book-keeping becomes more comphcated,
larger, and more expensive as the business grows. Large
businesses involve the payment of highly skilled managers
who would not be required for separate smaller concerns.
In the small businesses there are no directors' fees. Also,
in the smaller concerns one man may be put to many tasks :
if work is slack in one department he goes to another ; whereas
in large businesses all work is specialised, and, therefore,
whole department^ may be idle and still require to be kept
fully staffed. Again, one of the chief fixed charges in any
concern is that of " plant." In some cases, indeed, a single
large plant can be worked more cheaply than many small
ones. Fewer attendants, for instance, will be required.
But in other respects the fixed charges remain the same.
Thus, often the enlarging of a plant means the employment
of twenty machines instead of ten, but the cost of wear and
tear in each machine is the same in both cases. Sometimes
even the enlargement of the plant involves the employment
of more costly machinery. The cheap oil-engine used to
generate electricity in a small establishment will not suffice
even if enlarged to supply lighting to a town. Again, it is
cheaper to light a large area than a small one. But a limit
can be reached when the cost of transmission becomes
excessive, and then the rule of the benefits of the more ex-
tended area fails to hold. On this whole question of the
fixed charges, the argument has even been used,* that under
certain conditions the law of diminishing returns may operate
against the further extension of a particular business. We
do not know whether this is generally true in case of extension
by amalgamation. But we believe that it holds as regards
the improved quality of the plant required where a business
has grown beyond a certain point. In other words, a point
may be reached in expenditure on machinery where the
returns on capital outlay begin to diminish. FourtJily, it
is not true that the greater the amount that is spent on
• Prof. Chapman, " Political Economy," p. 80. The argument is
of course in our favour.
SOCIALISM 179
plant, the greater the efficiency. We soon reach the maximum
of efficiency in any machine. A small machine sufficing
for a small business may be quite as efficient as a large one
used in greater concerns. Fifthly, it is true that the rich
man can afford to wait for better opportunities, but there
are limits to waiting, and limits to the usefulness of large
capital in cnabhng one to wait. Sixthly, a monopohst cannot
always, as we have already seen, depress the price at which
raw material is purchased ; and there is a limit to the extent
to which he can inflate the selling price of manufactured
articles. This limit is determined by the people's means
and the dispensableness of the article. A small competing
firm may obtain that maximum as well as the monopolist.
Seventhly, it is only under quite abnormal conditions that
monopolies and trusts come into being through the wholesale
destruction of smaller businesses. It is only under the most
abnormal conditions that men will be wiUing to engage in
the almost suicidal race for victory which such destructive
competition involves. The risk and uncertainty are too
great at the start ; the actual loss is such as could be borne
only under abnormal economic conditions.
We may sum up by saying that there are operative
in the world forces which promote and forces which
retard concentration. Also there are departments in
which some degree of monopoly may be effected, and
departments in which monopoly is out of the question.
" So far," writes Ely, "as we now see we have a large
field belonging to monopoly ; but outside of this field
we have another in which under right conditions com-
petition is a permanent social force." And Prof. Chap-
man writes : "It would be a mistake to draw the
inference that competition has been so outflanked that
it must yield in bulk to combination. All businesses
are not suited to any degree of unified control, and
while in one state of development or of trade conditions,
an industry may lend itself to monopolisation, in another
set of circumstances forces which bring about its dis-
integration may as surely be generated." It is, indeed,
possible that in many trades the limits of centralisation
have already been overstepped. In his work, " Trusts
i8o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
in the United States," * Von Halle explains that it is
not uncommon for industries that had become centralised
to decentralise again for the greater economic advantage
offered by the smaller system. We have, therefore, no
difficulty in committing ourselves to the view that in
the capitalist system there is no inherent and irre-
sistible tendency to unlimited centralisation. Com-
petition will alwa3's tend to continue as long as trade
continues.
III. Whatever may be the tendency to concentration in
industry it is not in the direction of socialism, and will not
facilitate the advent of socialism.
Our proof of this proposition will be stated as briefly
as possible. Let us suppose for a moment that the forces
of centralisation exercise such exclusive or such a pre-
dominant control in the field of industry and commerce
that centralisation must of necessity proceed to a
maximum. What then ? Is socialism inevitable, or is
its advent, as each degree of centralisation is attained,
facilitated to any serious or to any extent ? There is
not the slightest reason for thinking so. Between
centralisation, in the sense in which it actually occurs
in industry, and socialism, there is not only difference
but opposition. Both, indeed, aim at effecting a greater
degree of unity. But the " unities " at which they
aim are very different. The unity which is now being
effected by amalgamation in industries is a unity not
of ownership but of management and action. That at
which socialism aims is, above all things, unity of owner-
ship. Under the socialist rSgime there will be no such
thing as distinct, independent, individual ownership in
capital. The State, the community, will be the universal
owner. Let us see how ownership is affected by the
process of centralisation now operating in industry —
that process by which in the opinion of socialists the
*p. 141.
SOCIALISM i8i
transition from individual to common ownership is
every day brought nearer and rendered more certain.
If all centralising operations consisted in the formation
of immense trusts with but few owners then, no doubt,
centralisation might gradually set up such a set of con-
ditions that the buying out or violent extermination of
owners by the community and the taking over of all
capital by the State would be comparatively easy of
accomplishment. But this is not the case. For the
most part centralisation consists in the amalgamation
of many large industries without any reduction in,
and often with increase in the number of owners. In
1890 the firm of J. & S. Coats, of Paisley, was formed
into a limited company with a capital of £5.750,000.
The result was an increase in the number of owners,
not decrease. Then began that series of amalgamations
to which socialists appeal as proof that individual capital
is being slowly eliminated, that there is constant diminu-
tion of the " magnates of capital." * After absorbing
Kerr & Co., of Paisley, in 1895, an amalgamation was
negotiated in 1896 with three of their chief rivals,
Clarke & Co., of Paisley; Chadwick & Co., of Bolton;
James Brook & Co., of Milthan. For this purpose
£4,000,000 of fresh capital was raised. f Here is a case
of amalgamation of many firms into one. It is one of
the standard cases appealed to by socialists. What is
effected, however, is unity of management, not of
ownership. The number of owners is not decreased.
In December, 1897, the English Sewing Cotton Co., to
which also socialists make constant reference, was
floated, consisting of an amalgamation of fifteen firms.
Fifteen firms were turned into one, but the number of
owners was, again, not decreased. The Bradford Dyers'
Association was formed in 1898, and made to embrace
twenty-two firms with a capital of £4,500,000. It had
for a long time practically a monopoly of the dyeing
* The words are those of Marx,
f Contemporary Review, June, 1899.
i82 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
business in England, but its former twenty-two sets of
owners remain.
The absurdity of quoting large newly formed com-
panies as instances of phenomenal centralisation, and
as clear proof of the irresistible approach of public in
lieu of private individual ownership will easily be seen
when we consider the number of shareholders that own
between them the various trusts on which socialists
build their case for socialism. Bernstein mentions the
English " Sewing Thread Trust " as counting no less
than 12,300 shareholders ; the trust of Spinners of
fine Cotton comprises 5,324 shareholders ; the share-
holders of the Manchester Canal Co. number 40,000 ;
those of T. Lipton number 74,262 ; Spiers and Pond, of
London, has its 4,560 shareholders ; five businesses *
(Guinness, Bass, etc.) are in the hands of 27,000 share-
holders. Railways often secure a monopoly of the
carrying trade in a particular area. But they will have
thousands of shareholders. In Oldham f there are
numerous co-operative spinning mills, owned entirely by
the workmen. There is a capital of close on £8,000,000.
It is stated that a thousand operatives in those mills
are worth from £1,000 to £2,000 each. We should like
to know what the Oldham spinners would say if they
were told that by adopting the principle of co-operation
they were proving themselves most generous to the
public in implicitly handing over or preparing the way
for the future handing over of all their property to the
State.
The formation of large companies then is not to be
regarded as proof of gradual shrinkage in the munber of
owners. On the contrary, company-formation often
means disintegration and increase in the number of
owners instead of concentration and shrinkage. Large
businesses often become too big for management by
the one or two individuals who gave them birth. They
• Date of Bernstein's work, 1899.
t Hae, " Contemporary Socialism," p. 338.
SOCIALISM 183
are then turned into companies with many owners;
Even after the formation of such companies the number
of shareholders generally continues to grow, sometimes
with issue of new capital, sometimes without. Taking
twelve companies at random, but representing com-
pletely different kinds of business, Viscount Goschen *
shows that in the 3'ears 1876-86 the number of share-
holders increased from 11,667 to 20,083. We have no
doubt that if a census were taken in any country now,
and compared with the tables of ten years ago, it would
be found that the number of owners of capital had
increased enormously, not only absolutel}^ but in pro-
portion to increase in population during that period ;
and they would be found so to have increased even if
the number of firms had decreased in either or both of
the ways mentioned.
There is another point that we cannot afford to lose
sight of in this connection. The essence of capitalism
lies not so much in the fact that there are many owners
as in the fact that owners are free to save and invest
their savings as they will. Even under socialism men
could own what they receive from the State, but they
could not invest as they will what they receive and
own. Now, even though a law of concentration in
industry such as Marx describes really existed, it could
in no wise be regarded as hastening the advance of
socialism ; for, even if all industries were concentrated
in one huge trust, every member would be free to save
and to buy more shares, and to draw more profits or
dividends from his investments. Such a form of com-
munity might or might not be an improvement on the
present condition of things, but it would be very far
removed from socialism.
In two ways socialists might attempt to claim that
centralisation must of necessity lead to socialism.
* " Essays and Addresses on Economic Questions," p. 257.
i84 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
First, under the influence of concentrative laws our
present system might develop into sociaHsm. But this
cannot be the case. Centralisation is in the direction
rather of increase in the number of private owners
than decrease ; and, as we have just seen, centralisation
still leaves intact the right of free private investment
which socialism totally disallows. Secondly, it might
be claimed that as the number of capitalist undertakings
diminishes they will the more easily succumb to violent
expropriation when the time for violent action arrives.
But this cannot happen unless the number of owners
decreases also ; and we have seen that such is not the
case. What is more, the proletariat, as we have also
seen, is itself fast coming to own large amounts of
company capital. Thousands and thousands of the
proletariat in England, America, France, and Germany
are capitalists on a small scale. Should expropriation
ever be attempted, it will be found that this latter body
of capitalists will be in a position to offer to their expro-
priators an even firmer and more effective, because
better organised, resistance than would be possible under
the older system of isolated individual capitalism.
CHAPTER VI
SOCIALISM
The Marxian Argvme^ts— {Continued)
Nor only according to Marx is private ownership in
capital * certain to disappear because of its own inherent
tendency to greater and greater concentration, the effect
of which is gradually to eliminate the competitive
element from commerce and industry — .it is also bound
to disappear because of certain evils resident in private
capitalism, the effect of which evils must in time be
to move the proletariat irresistibly to combine and
organise for its destruction. The first of these evil&
Marx discusses under the heading, " the surplus-value
of labour " ; others are : the necessity of crises under
capitalism, the capitalist exploitation of labour, the
" reserve army " of labour or increased unemployment,
and, finally, the " iron law of wages." The present
chapter is devoted to a discussion of these five argu-
ments.
The Surplus- Value of Labour
The argument based on " surplus-value " holds the
chief place in Marx's celebrated indictment of capitalism.
Briefly it is as follows : — all wealth is produced by labour.
By labour here is meant, not any form of human effort,
* We wish, at the very beginning of this chapter, to point out that
)ur defence of " capitalism " is a defence of the private ownership of
Ithe means of production. We have no desire to bolster up capitalism
lin the sense in which that word is often at present understood, viz.
[the possession of the means of production by a few rich men, and the
[exclusion of all others from those means. We maintain that the
igreater the number of persons in possession of the means of produc-
[tion, and particularly the land, the better for all.
185
i86 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
but manual labour, the labour of the working classes.
The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the houses in
which we live, are all products of labour. Labour tills
the soil, prepares it, drains it, sows the seed and reaps
the harvest. Labour extracts the metallic ore from
the earth, purifies it, works up -the raw materials of
machiner}^ puts the parts together, and works the
machine. It is labour that sows the flax, spins the yarn,
furnishes the finished garment. There is nothing used
or produced in industry that is not directly or indirectly
a result of labour, and of labour exclusively. Labour,
then, is the sole factor in the production of wealth.
Now a man, Marx continues, has a right to what he
himself produces, and, therefore, all the products of
industry belong rightfully to labour. Thus there is not
a penny\vorth of value produced in the industrial
world that does not belong by the most original and
natural of all titles of ownership to the working classes.
Do the working classes receive this value ? Far from
it. That is not what the labouring classes are employed
for. The labourer is employed to make money for
the capitalist ; and he makes money for the capitalist
by being himself deprived of the major portion of what
he produces. The labourer receives a bare subsistence
wage. In two or three days he can, and does produce
goods to the value of that subsistence wage. The rest
of the week's produce goes to the capitalist. It is to
this remainder that Marx gives the name — the " surplus-
value " of labour. The capitalist system, he submits,
since it not only allows but is intrinsically dependent on
the creation of surplus-value, is unjust and intolerable.*
• Marx also maintains that labour is the measure of all value.
It is not necessary for us here to discuss the Marxian theory of value,
beyond saying that no modern writer would maintain that labour is
the sole or the fundamental determinant of value. The fundamental
determinant of value consists in the capacity of an object for satisfying
human needs ; value is measured by the utilities of an object, and
its utilities mean its capacity for satisfying needs — (See Aristotle,
" Nich. Ethics," V. 5). Modern writers express the same doctrine
when they say that value-in-exchangc is measured by marginal
SOCIALISM 187
Our criticism of this theory of surphis-value will
•consist in establishing the following proposition : —
Labour in the Marxian sense, i.e. manual labour, is
not the sole or the chief factor in the production of modern
wealth.
Putting aside certain kinds of wealth which nobod}''
regards as products of mere manual labour, e.g. paintings
and statuary, and confining our attention to what is
known as industrial wealth proper, such as food, clothing,
and the ordinary articles of commerce, we are inclined
to assent to the Marxian theory so far as to admit that
before the rise of capitalism, the wealth of the world
was in the main the result of manual labour. It was not
wholly outside the capacity of the ordinary workman
to devise the means of production then at his disposal, e.g.
the hand-loom and the wooden plough, and it certainly
was part of his province to fashion and to use those
instruments. The labourer made the plough and
ploughed the land. The labourer constructed the hand-
loom, produced the cloth, and furnished the finished
garment. Labour, skilled and unskilled, was the chief
factor in production in those ancient days.*
But labour is not the chief factor of production now.
Labour cannot account for the enormous productiveness
of modern industry, and, therefore, it is not the sole
or the chief factor in the production of wealth. Labour,
indeed, is necessary for production now as always ;
but another factor has now to be considered to which,
utility, i.e. a man will usually buy at any level that will afford him at
least a minimum of utility. It is the same with selling.
Labour, we admit, is one of the most important of all the de-
terminants of value, for labour is the chief element in cost of pro-
duction, and cost of production is one of the chief factors in determining
the level at which it is useful to buy or sell. But labour is not the
only determinant of value ; there is, for instance, also the price of
the raw materials, a price which is not wholly determined by the
labour of producing or extracting these materials.
I* It does not follow that labour had a right to all the wealth of
:he world in ancient times. Labour, as we have already seen (p. 143),
s only one out of many titles of ownership.
i88 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
much more than to labour, the effectiveness of modern
industry is directly attributable. To this second factor
is given the name " ability " — a name which has been
specially designed to signify those particular talents
and powers that are employed in the invention of
machinery, in the creation and management of great
industrial undertakings, and in the direction of labour,
which talents and powers, all will agree, are quite
distinct both in kind and degree from any form of
capacity which the manual worker is ever called upon
to employ.*
That labour in the Marxian sense, i.e. manual labour,
does not account for the enormous productiveness of
modern industry may be established in two ways, first,
by showing what labour itself without the help of the
modern inventor and director of industry is capable
of achieving (we shall show that it falls far short of the
productiveness of modern industry) : secondly, by
analysing the factors engaged in modern industry, and
showing how small is the part played by labour in com-
parison with the other elements contributing to the
result. In this way we shall disprove the title of labour
to be the sole or the chief factor in the production of
modern wealth.
First, it is possible to determine the amount of wealth
which labour as such, labour operating by itself, is capable
of producing from the degree of productiveness that
attached to labour in early times before the rise of modern
machinery, t or that attaches to it in modern times in
countries that have not yet adopted the use of modern
machinery. In both cases the amount of wealth which
labour shows itself capable of producing is exceedingly
email in comparison with the wealth which is con-
• The labourer inay possess talents in every way equal to those
of his employer. Our point here is that these are not the talents
which arc requisitioned and applied in the work which the labourer
actually accomplishes.
t Wc shall show presently that modern machinery is not itself a
product of mere labour.
SOCIALISM 189
tinually being poured out of our factories where to a
large extent human hands are replaced by the modern
machine.
In the Middle Ages, when the implements of labour
were exceedingly simple, so simple that they could be
devised and fashioned by labour itself, the output of
labour per head of the labouring population was in
point of value a very small fraction of the wealth which
a single operative is capable of producing to-day.
Clothes, shoes, building materials — how slowly and
patiently these were produced by the labourer's unaided
hands even two hundred years ago. And of the things
that were produced at that period how small the variety
in comparison with the immense and varied productivity
of labour to-day. Even in agriculture, where the scale
of production in the old and the new period does not
differ so widely as in industry proper, the difference
in output in the two periods is enormous. In the
Middle Ages a single farmer with, say, four or five helpers
simply could not undertake the work which a farmer
with the same amount of help will freely undertake
to-day. The present-day implements for clearing and
preparing the land, for binding, reaping, threshing the
corn, and for despatching the gathered harvest did
not exist in those far-off days. And what was the out-
put of agriculture then ? It was roughly the amount
that sufficed to keep a man and his family from poverty
and want. It was what corresponded to what is now
spoken of as the sustenance-wage. There are even now
countries where until very recently the implements used
in agriculture were the implements of two hundred years
ago, the implements which labour itself sufficed to pro-
vide, and the agricultural output in these countries was
not more than the output of agriculture in the earlier
period. A signal instance is provided for us by the
peasants of the Palatinate to whose industry, thrift,
unalterable patience, and courage John Stuart Mill bears
such eloquent and striking testimony. These peasant
igo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
proprietors, he writes, labour most intensely, they " plod
on from day to day, and year to year, the most patient,
untirable, and persevering of animals." " Every man
has his house, his orchard, his road-side trees, commonly
so heavy with fruit that he is obliged to secure them
all ways or they would be torn to pieces." Could any
condition be more favourable to securing for labour, at
least in the domain of agriculture, the very highest
degree of productiveness possible to it ? And yet the
net result is given by Mill — " they have no actual want " ;
in other words, they produce just what the household
required, the bare means of subsistence. And this is
what, without modern machinery, manual labour seems
capable of producing, not in agriculture onh^ but in all
other departments of industry also, just what, when
turned into money, will suffice to maintain a man's
own home.
Compare this with what a modern workman can pro-
duce with the aid of machinery. Taking two periods,
separated by the comparatively short space of seventy-
one years, a modern authority * writes that in 1840 a
single workman could perform " in spinning cotton an
amount of work equivalent to that of 320 men before
1769." Two centuries ago one pair of hands could
scarcely have turned out more than one pair of stockings
in the day. To-day a single operative could produce in
a rough way twenty pair or more. Then if to these is
added the enormous quantities of material wealth that
a comparatively small number of hands is daily turning
out of the workshops of England, steel works, iron
works, printing works, and all the other great concerns
of the nation, we can only wonder whether there is
any proportion whatever between the labour of olden
days, and what it produced, and the .productiveness of
the labour of to-day. In this, of course, we must not
allow our imaginations to mislead us. We said that in
a particular kind of work the output per head of the
♦ Nicholson, " The Effect of Machinery on Wages," ch. 2.
SOCIALISM 191
labouring population was three hundred times that of a
couple of centuries before. But the general dispro-
portion between the productiveness of industry under
the old and the new conditions respectively is not nearly
so great as this. Besides the spinners of cotton in
modern times there must be also men to make the
modern machines, to set up the machines, to build the
factories ; and so the productiveness per head of the
labouring population will be far less than the figures
given above might lead us to expect. Statisticians,
however, comparing the all-round productiveness per
head of the industrial population at the end of the
seventeenth and nineteenth centuries respectively, repre-
sent the two as standing in the ratio of seven to thirty-
three ; * it is a ratio which is widening with every year
that passes ; and it suffices to show how groundless is
the claim made by socialist writers that labour is not
only the chief but the sole factor in the production of
modem wealth. If the figures of the statisticians are
true it is clear that labour operating by itself could not
account for more than a fifth of the total productiveness
of the industry of these present days.
But, it will be said, is it not labour that has produced
the modern machine and, therefore, is not labour to be
credited with all the extended productiveness of industry
in the modern as compared with the earlier period ?
Our answer is that labour as such is to be credited with
no part of the increased productiveness of modem
industry, for labour did not produce the modern machine.
The workmen certainly set up the machine, but always
according to the plans of, and, therefore, under the
guidance of, the inventor. The machine, in its first
)rigin, is the work not of labour but of the mental ability
the inventor. Neither does mere labour produce the
laterials of which the machine is made. These also
re the products of many inventive minds, distinct from
ibour. To use an expression of Mr. Mallock's — the
* Mallock, " Critical Examination of Socialism," ch. 2.
192 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
materials of which machines are made are not so much
crystaUised labour as " crystallised mechanics, crystallised
chemistry, cr3'stallised mathematics, in short, crystallised
intellect, knowledge, imagination, and executive capacity
of kinds which hardly exist in a dozen minds out of a
million."
Labour, as such, then, could never have put the
world in possession of the great implements of industry
through which wealth is produced to-day. Indeed, the
faculties engaged in the designing and production of
these appliances are of a kind wholl}^ different from that
of labour. Through many centuries labour did direct
itself to improve upon the implements supplied to it
by each generation, and the improvements effected were
negligible in kind and amount. Right up to the end of
the eighteenth century the instruments used in pro-
duction showed no tendency to improve. " Until the
beginning of our century," writes Le Bon, " the instru-
ments of industry had scarcely changed for a thousand
years ; they were, in fact, identical as regards their
•essential parts with the appliances which figure in the
interior of the Egyptian tombs four thousand years
old." Labour could not produce a specifically new
kind of appliance because a new faculty was required
for such production. Quite suddenly, at the end of the
eighteenth century, what was evidently a new factor,
-distinct altogether from labour, became operative in
industry ; a new world of industry arose, the actuating
spirit of industry was radicall}' altered, and at a bound,
productiveness increased in innumerable departments
|wenty, thirty, a hundred times. This new factor was
none other than the ability of the inventor and of the
great masters of industry, ability which until that time
had been employed in other spheres than industry, and
"which now appeared for the first time as a powerful
Bource of productiveness in that sphere.
But all that we have said on the inability of labour
to devise or furnish the world with the machinery that
SOCIALISM 193
has made modern industry the great new departure
that it is, in comparison with what went before, will
be confirmed and iUustrated from the argument now
to follow.*
Secondly, we said that an examination of any one or
a few of those processes by which industry nowadays
achieves its results will suffice to show that labour is
not the sole or the chief factor in modern production.
By the expenditure of a comparatively small amount
of energy the modern workman achieves results alto-
gether out of proportion to the energy which he personally
expends in his work. The reason is that by the ex-
penditure of a small amount of energy the workman
releases other immense supplies and kinds of energy
which through the ingenuity of the inventor have been
stored up in the machine, and, therefore, it is to the
machine principally, or to its inventor, and not to labour
that we must attribute the immensity of the result
which finally appears. This is why the same pair of
hands that formerly could spin a certain amount of
cotton in the day now produces 300 times as much.
The worker is not the chief producer. The chief pro-
ducer is the machine or rather the inventor of the
machine. The work of the skilled labourer consists,
for the most part, in controlling and watching the
machine, in supplying it with materials, and removing
products. The work of production itself is in all
machines very largely, and in many almost wholly, an
automatic process, accomplished by the machine, through
the agency of its own inner forces. Of miany of the pro-
cesses that go on under his hand the workman has often
no understanding, and even if he does happen to under-
jStand, such knowledge is not requisitioned in the ac-
tomplishment of his task ; it is a mere accident without
bearing on the work he does. In nearly every kind
* For the argument that precedes we are almost wholly indebted
Mr. Mallock's delightful work : "A Critical Examination of
jcialism."
VOL. II — 13
194 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of machinery there are utilised and appHeda number of
principles in Chemistry, in Mechanics, and in Mathe-
matics, which lie far beyond the intelligence, or at all
events, the attainments of the most skilled workman.
Between his labour, therefore, and the completed work
regarded as embodying those principles there is a huge
disproportion which disentitles the labourer to be
recognised as the sole or even the chief factor in those
productive processes that he conducts and controls.
And this disproportion is found to increase and widen
as industry progresses. The workman is becoming more
and more of an automaton in the sense of acting under
directions from others — and this because of his increasing
inability to understand the principles embodied in
modern machinery. New principles are being dis-
covered and utilised every day that pass entirely
beyond his comprehension. Not one workman in a
thousand understands even a small fraction of the
principles applied, and the distribution of the forces
utilised, in a modern electric machine. The workman
knows how to couple up the parts, to start the machine,
and to stop it. But in the devising of the machine
there is involved the highest technical and mathematical
knowledge such as most workmen have neither the means
nor the opportunity of acquiring; What folly in the
light of these facts to claim that the labour of the work-
man is the sole or even the chief factor in present-day
production !
The third factor in modern production other than labour.
Our position as developed in the argument just com-
pleted is that labour is not the sole factor in production,,
that to ability also is to be attributed a large share in
the productiveness of modern industry. It is no part
of our theory, however, that ability and labour arc the
only factors concerned in production, or that whatever
is not produced by labour is necessarily the work ol
ability and belongs to the capitalist. There is a third
SOCIALISM 195
factor to be enumerated, without which neither abihty
nor labour could have reached their present effective-
ness, and which is itself a product neither of labour nor
of ability. We refer to all tho^e natural stores of energy
which for centuries lay unutilised beneath the earth*
in our coal- and oil-mines, and which it was reserved
for the people of our time to utilise with such stupendous
effect in every department of production. These natural
sources of energy are not the creation either of ability or
of labour or of both combined. They are an independent
factor of production, and any attempt to ignore them
must necessarily lead to fallacious conclusions concerning
the rights of labour and ability respectively. Thus Mr.
Mallock, in his work, " A Critical Examination of Social-
ism," gives a computation of the respective claims of
ability on the one hand, as representing capital, and
labour on the other, which, by omitting all mention of
this third factor, leads to a conclusion which is manifestly
at variance with justice and common sense. Estimating,
just as we have done (our method has been borrowed
from him), the productive capacity of labour from the
amount that labour was able to produce before the rise
of modern machinery, which, as we saw, was not much
above the mere subsistence wage, he then evolves the
argument that, labour and ability being the only factors
in production, all that is left of the products of industry
after the labourer has received his subsistence wage
belongs to ability alone. If more is given to the labourer,
and on certain extrinsic titles, he tells us, more ought to
be given, it is to be regarded as " a gift to the many from
the few." t
* Land was always a factor of production. But modern industry
is chiefly characterised by the utilisation of the natural stores of
energy referred to in our text.
t op. cit. p. 282. The only titles on which, according to Mr.
.Mallock, the capitalist is bound to give more than a subsistence wage
to the labourer are the following : first, something ought to be given
Ito the labourer as compensation for loss of freedom in placing himself
pn the hands of the capitalist ; secondly, as a precaution of prudence,
pt is well to give the labourer an additional sum to impress him with
"le benefits of the wages system — (ch. 16).
196 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
This conclusion, we have said, is opposed to justice.
The natural sources of energy that were opened up at
the beginning of the capitalist period are surely to be
credited with some portion of the total productiveness
of industry, and since they have been produced neither
by ability nor by labour we cannot say, a priori, that
this portion of the total output of industry belongs
exclusively either to labour or to ability. Any general
or abstract claim, therefore, made without further
examination of the question, " who owns these sources
of production? " that, whatever the labourer receives
above his subsistence wage is of necessity to be regarded
as a gift to the many from the few, is preposterous and
unjust.*
The importance of this third factor in production can
scarcely be overrated. Some idea of its immensity may
be gained from the following computation made by a
very reliable authority. " For the United States alone,"
writes M. Le Bon,t " the power extracted from coal is
valued at the equivalent of thirteen million men, and
fifty-three million horses." " Admitting," this author
proceeds, " the absurd hypothesis of the possibility of
obtaining so many men and animals, the expense of
their keep would be £2,200,000,000 instead of the
£100,000,000 or so which represents the work executed
by machine-motors." It must be admitted, therefore,
that a great part of the present wealth of the world is
to be attributed to these sources of natural energy as
distinct from either labour or ability.
The question now arises — to whom does that portion
of the fruits of industry which represents the value of
these natural sources of production as distinct from labour
and ability belong in justice ? Our answer is — it belongs
to that person or body of persons to whom the natural
* Moreover in our discus.sion on the wages-contract (p. },^S) it
will be shown that the wage-earner has a right in justice, arising out
of the nature of the wages-contract itself, to more than tlie bare sub-
sistence wage.
t " The Psychology of Socialism," p. 215.
SOCIALISM
197
sources themselves belong. Ownership of the sources
always brings with it ownership of the fruits as well.
If, therefore, the natural sources, i.e. principally the
coal- and oil-mines, are not owned by any private
individual, if they are the property of the nation at
large, the fruits of them belong to the nation at large
and they should be utilised for the benefit of all. If,
on the other hand, the coal- and oil-mines belong to
private owners, to the capitalists, then, provided that
they are justly owned, and that a just remuneration is
given to those who by their labour render these sources
of wealth available for use, the values corresponding
to them are to be regarded as belonging by right to
those persons to whom the mines themselves belong.
But on what title, it may be asked, can the things that
are produced by God alone be taken over by a few indi-
viduals as their private property to the exclusion of
millions of other persons for whose benefit, equally with
that of the few, these great natural sources of wealth
were originally provided ? This is a question which we
cannot fully consider at present since it raises the problem
of the ownership of land and of natural wealth generally
— a problem which will be examined with special reference
to the question of the ownership of mines, in an appendix
to a subsequent chapter. At present all that it is possible
to say is this — coal- and oil-mines may be owned by
individuals on perfectly valid titles ; what is more,
unless these mines had in the past been taken over by
individual persons as their own private property they
could never have been made available for public use.
Coal-mines are not to be regarded as natural storehouses
in which ready-made wealth is contained in enormous
quantities, wealth which any person might extract who
cared to do so, without expenditure or financial risk or
trouble of any kind. As a matter of fact, enormous
sums of money have to be spent on coal-mines before
they can become a source of profit, and this expenditure
is always attended with very grave risk of complete
198 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
loss. This we shall establish by reference to definite
facts and figures in a later chapter. The conclusion,
however, which we wish to emphasise now is that the
natural sources of wealth may belong to private owners,
and that in such cases the owners have a perfect right
to the fruits. At present in England the coal-mines
are the property of private capitalists ; this (and not
the supposition that the whole of what is produced
by industry over and above the subsistence wage must
necessarily have been produced by ability) is the title
on which that portion of the national wealth which is
attributable to the coal-mines belongs to the capitalist
class in England. There are countries, however, where
these natural sources are not owned by private capitalists,
and there the private capitalist can lay no claim to the
portion of the national wealth which is due to these
natural sources, but only to the products of his own work
and ability.*
* We think that a case might be made showing that even in
England workmen have a right to some of the products due to the
natural sources in the following manner : The mines in a country-
like England go with the land, so that whoever owns the land owns
the mines also. Now this right to the underlands following ownership
of the surface or overland, is not of natural but of civil authority
only, as we have already seen (p. 141). Moreover, we saw that the
civil law, though it acted validly, did not act wisely in conferring this
right. There is no reason in the world why a man who owns the
surface should be owner also of everything beneath the surface. If,
therefore, the State is to be regarded as reasonable it must be supposed,
when conferring this ownership of the underlands, to expect of owners,
should these underlands prove to be immensely more valuable than
the surface lands to which they were supposed to be accessory, that
some of these immense and unexpected values, values which the
mine-owner did not himself produce, should go to the nation, and in
particular to the working classes who take such a prominent part in
production.
We oifcr this argument as a suggestion merely. Whether or not
it is valid, and whether, therefore, it proves that what the workman
receives over and above the subsistence wage is not a gift to the many
from the few, wc leave to the reader to say. 13ut in any case that
this surplusage is not of the nature of a gift, but is due to the work-
man in justice, can also be established on other grounds (p. 343).
The workman has a right in justice to much more than the subsistence
wage, as will be proved in a later chapter.
SOCIALISM 199
A DIFFICULTY
It is supposed in the foregoing line of reasoning, in which
we claim that labour is not the sole source of modern wealth
since the ability of the capitahst is also a source, that the
capitahst is necessarily a man of ability, whereas we know
that many capitalists either have no ability at all, or fail
to exercise it, living away from their business and leaving
the conduct of it to mere salaried oihcials. How, it is asked,
can such men be said to have a right to the wealth that
ability produces ?
Reply. — In answer to this important difficulty we wish,
first of all, to call the reader's attention to a matter which
has already been explained but which it is necessary to
repeat in the present connection. When we contrasted the
functions of the labourer and the inventor by representing
one as spending material energy and the other as exercising
ability it was no part of our theory that workmen had no
ability or that their natural intellectual faculties were of a
lower order than those of other men. Our point was that,
whatever might be the natural intellectual acumen of work-
men, the powers that were called into play and that were
required for the successful accomplishment of the manual
labourer's task were of a kind wholly different from those
employed in the work of invention and administration.
That, and not any absurd prepossession in regard to the
aptitudes of the labouring classes, was our reason for placing
his work on the one side as an exercise of labour alone, and
on the other side the factor which we spoke of as ability.
But now the question arises — To whom is this ability
which we contrast so markedly with the labour of the work-
man supposed to belong ? For purposes of the present
discussion it really was not necessary to determine its owner
in any way. Our thesis being that labour is not the sole
factor in the production of wealth it is obvious that in
•elucidating this thesis it was not necessary to do more than
to show that labour could lay no claim to whatever portion
of the fruits of industry is attributable to this second factor.
That position, at least, we hope has been fully established
I in our recent discussion.
But it is possible also to return some general answer to
the question to whom the ability which we have spoken of
as the second chief factor in production belongs and to whom,
therefore, the fruits of this abihty should be given. First,
200 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the machine. To him must be awarded a portion of the
total product of industry proportioned to the value of his
invention. But this right of the inventor is not to be re-
garded as prejudicing in any way another right which the
inventor possesses in common with every human being»
viz. his right freely to dispose of that which is his own.
And it is the exercise of his full freedom in this manner by
the inventor that first brings us into contact with the
capitalist as a rival claimant with labour of the fruits of
industry. The inventor may retain his invention in his own
hands and work it himself, employing men to aid him in
conducting his business. The inventor is then a capitalist.
Or the inventor may sell his machine to another and then
that other becomes the capitalist and being owner of the
machine has a full right to the fruits of the abilities which
are enshrined in that machine, that is, to all that the machine
produces, minus a fair wage paid to the labourer. But the
capitalist is more than the mere owner of a machine.
Machinery requires other plant besides itself before it can
be successfully worked. Buildings have to be erected, the
machinery has to be put into position, power has to be
supphed, raw materials have to be procured. All this the
capitahst provides at his own expense, and, thereby, his
special title to a portion of the products of industry distinct
from that given to labour becomes wider and more pro-
nounced.
But, besides the abihty of the inventor, there exists also
another kind of ability which is of immense importance for
success in the industrial world, viz. the ability of the ad-
ministrator or of the director of industry. Without ad-
ministrative ability there could be no such thing as success
in an industrial concern. Administrative ability is a term
of the very widest connotation. It includes not merely
ability to direct the labourers in the work of production,
but ability to gauge the markets, to proportion cost of pro-
duction to expected prices, and even to create markets
where they do not exist. It includes the faculty of rapidly
estimating risks, and also the right degree of caution and
daring in facing and overcoming them. These are all parts
of the character that go to make a successful business man,
and they arc all included under what is usually spoken of as
administrative ability. 'I'he question now arises are capitalists
or the employers of labour men of ability in this sense ?
Do they really exercise the functions of administrator, and
have they, therefore, a right not only to that portion of the
fruits of industry which is attributable to tlic machinery
SOCIALISM 201
and to plant generally, but to another portion also answering
to their special work of administration ?
Our answer is that most capitalists do actually direct
the work of the institutions which they set up and own.
They, the owners, the chief organisers, will not, indeed,
embroil themselves in a too-detailed surveillance. The
details of organisation must be left to smaller men. " The
commercial man," writes a well-known modern authority,*
" whose time is taken up with the details of his business is
doomed to failure." But the broader work of direction is,
as a rule, undertaken by owners in every country.
If, however, an owner should decide to leave the work,
even of supreme direction, to another and to pay him for
his work (and in some cases capitalists are, from the nature
of the case, compelled to do so ; it would be impossible,
for instance, for all railway shareholders, who being share-
holders are also all capitalists, to undertake direction) then
it is hard to see that in doing so he interferes in any way
with the rights of workmen. He who owns a business has
a perfect right to direct it in any way he pleases whether
personally or through others. If he personally directs the
business he is entitled to all the profits due to successful
direction. If he exercises that function through another
he must pay that other a just salary. But to whomsoever
the fruits due to the exercise of administrative ability are
linally awarded, they are not in justice the property of
manual labour. f
Capitalism and Industrial Crises
Crises are certain temporary or short-lived, though
acute, bad periods of trade extending over a wide area
of a nation's commercial life, involving grave financial
loss to a large number of producers, the destruction of a
large number of concerns, and, as a consequence, a
grave diminution of employment in many departments
of trade. Crises are of a temporary character, that is,
they do not involve the permanent disappearance of
trade. On the other hand, they are both acute and
* Macrosty, Contemporary Review, June, 1899.
t Our section on the wages-contract might be usefully read ia
:onj unction with this whole argument.
202 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
widespread, and, therefore, they differ essentially from
ordinary trade depressions. Their effects are most
keenly felt amongst the poor, who are thrown out of
employment in thousands and can find no avenue of
industry open to them — the depression that follows upon
a crisis being, as we said, always widespread, and ex-
tending to nearly every department of trade.
Now it is contended by Marx and his followers that
all crises are attributable, directly or indirectly, to
capitalism as their ultimate ground and cause. Crises,
they say, are inseparable from capitalism, and under the
s^^stem of capitalism they tend to recur, not irregularly
and, as it were, accidental^, but at regular intervals
and, therefore, according to some law inherent in
capitalism. Their recurrent character is thus described
by Engels * : —
" The ever increasing perfectability of modern machinery
is by the anarchy of social production turned into a com-
pulsory law that forces the individual industrial capitalist
always to improve machinery, always to increase its pro-
ductive force. . . . The extension of the markets cannot
keep pace with the extension of production. The collision
becomes inevitable ; and, as this cannot produce any real
solution as long as it does not break in pieces, the collisions
become periodic.
As a matter of fact, since 1825, when the first general
crisis broke out, the whole industrial and commercial world,
production and exchange among all civilised peoples and
their more or less barbaric hangers-on, are thrown out of
joint about once every ten years. Commerce is at a stand-
still, the markets arc glutted, products accumulate, as
multitudinous as they are unsaleable, hard casli disappears,
credit vanishes, factories are closed, the mass of the workers
arc in want of the means of subsistence because they have
))r()(hice(l too miuli of the means of subsistence ! Imnkruptcy
follows upon bankrui)tcy, execution ui)on execution. The
stagnation lasts for years, productive forces and products
are wasted and destroyed wholesale, until the accumulated
mass of commodities finally filters off, more or less depreciated
• " Socialism, Utopian and Scientific," p. 63.
SOCIALISM 203
in value, until production and exchange gradually begin to
move again. Little by little the pace quickens. It becomes
a trot. The industrial trot breaks into a canter, the canter
in turn grows into the headlong gallop of a perfect steeple-
chase of industry, commercial credit, and speculation ; which,
finally, after breakneck leaps, ends where it began in the
ditch of a crisis, and so over again."
From this pagsage we may gain some imperfect idea
of the nature and terrible effects of crises. The author
just quoted apparently assumes that crises are all
caused by over-production. Whether there are other fac-
tors that also may result in crises \Vill be seen presently.
But whatever maybe the cause of crises, it is certain that
they are a very great evil, and that no pains should be
spared to bring about their complete elimination from
industrj^ But, though crises are evils of such gravity
as to command the serious attention of economists and
moralists, nevertheless we must not allow ourselves to
be drawn away by a too detailed consideration of
them from the main purpose of the present chapters,
which are concerned only with certain supposed defects
of capitalism. It will, indeed, be found impossible in
considering this, our main problem, to avoid saying
something on the causes of crises ; but anything in the
way of a detailed scientific investigation of them, or
of the supposed law of their periodic recurrence, lies
altogether outside our work.
Our discussion of crises, which will be brief, will con-
sist of two parts. First, w^e shall enquire whether
crises are necessary under capitalism ; then, secondly,
we shall discuss the problem whether they are wholly-
avoidable under socialism.
Are crises necessary tinder Capitalism?
Before attempting to answer this question we may be
allowed to attempt a brief enumeration of the main
causes of crises. The first and commonest cause of
204 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
crises is over-production.* The producer makes a false
estimate as to future demands. Goods produced at an
immense cost happen not to be in demand, and are
either unsaleable, or are sold at a very great loss. A
large number of firms are similarly and simultaneously
hit. The banks are run on. Credit is stopped. Pro-
duction ceases. Widespread unemployment ensues.
Again, crises are brought about by over-capitalising f
and rash speculation. Immense sums of money are
put into fruitless ventures with results similar to those
just described. Bad harvests, too, are an obvious cause
of crises. Wide-extended failure here often involves
failure of the materials of production. Worse still,
consumers have not the money to purchase what is
produced. If previous harvests have been good, pro-
duction may have for some years been on a very large
scale, big prices being counted upon. Producers, there-
fore, lose heavily and are in straits for money. The
banks have not the money to lend. There is failure all
round. Again, new inventions, by rendering existing
systems antiquated, may bring about the ruin of many
old-established firms. In time, of course, each new
invention should succeed in bringing other subordinate
businesses into existence, and by cheapening articles
increase the market-demand for them. But the process
of adjustment of the various industrial forces, one to
another, is often slow, and in the meantime all the
conditions of a crisis may realise themselves. Large
• According to Hobson (" Evol. of Mod. Capit.," ch. xi.) crises
are caused rather by under-consumption and over-saving than by
over-production. He speaks of under-consumption as the " root-
evil of depressed trade." We may, however, regard under-consumption
and over-production as correlative terms. But Hobson usefully
points out that over-production does not always consist in a " glut
of goods." Often, when it is found that demand has failed, .supply
may be instantly checked ; but then you are left with " idle machinery,
closed factories, unworked mines, unused ships and railway trucks."
In other words over-production is often of the nature of over-capitalisa-
tion.
I Sec Seligman, " Principles of Economics," p. 586, who maintains
tljat all crises arc due to this as their chief cause.
SOCIALISM 205
gold discoveries, also, may, by giving an impetus to
unwise speculation, help to produce crises. War,
pestilence, and any great political disturbance, bj^ giving
a shock to credit, may lay the foundations of crises.
They may be brought about also by any cause that
affects the ultimate reserves — the real foundations of
the credit sj^stem, any sudden and extensive drain, for
instance, on the gold reserve of a country.*
The main causes of crises being now considered, we
may proceed to answer the question — whether crises
are inseparable from capitalism ? Our answer is that,
under capitalism, crises must always be reckoned upon
as a possible contingency, since at least many of the
causes that produce crises are ineradicable from that
system. Nevertheless, not only is it possible to a large
extent to remove or neutralise those causes, but this
has actually been done, so that in any well organised
industrial country a serious or prolonged crises is be-
coming less and less possible each decade of years, and,
in England at all events, may even now be regarded as
no more than a remote contingency.
That the causes of crises must continue to remain
under capitalism is obvious. As long as producers aim
at big profits and at the same time are not infallible in
predicting the market-demand, there will remain the
danger of over-production. For the same reason over-
capitalisation and gambling on the stock exchange
must always be reckoned on as a possibility. Eager
and foolish investment will alwaj's remain as long as the
lust for wealth remains and men have money to gamble
with. Bad harvests, wars, new inventions, and dis-
coveries of gold must also remain possibilities. Hence,
since many of the causes which produce crises must
continue to remain with us, crises must also continue
to
^^B * Other causes, real and alleged, will be considered in a note at
^^■he end of the present section. A good account of the causes of
^^Brises is to be found in Nicholson, " Principles of Political Economy,"
^Vol.
I
2o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
to be reckoned amongst the number of possible human
ills.*
Nevertheless these causes are not without their pre-
ventives and their remedies. The first is better organisa-
tion in trade. As Seligman points out : f " like some
of the other economic evils of the nineteenth century
financial crises seem to be peculiar to the infancy of
the factory system." Better organisation brings the
centres and channels of commerce closer together, ad-
justment under changing conditions becomes easier,
relief is closer at hand, labour becomes more mobile,
employment is more easily found. Improved organisa-
tion of our commercial system, therefore, must, of a
certainty, reduce the probability of the occurrence of
crises. It was, says Engels himself, owing to the fact
that the Suez Canal brought America and India by
seventy to ninety per cent, nearer to the industrial
countries of Europe that " the two great incubators of
crises from 1825 to 1857 lost a great part of their destruc-
tive power"; the oceanic cable he also regards as
responsible for the prevention of many a panic in the
money markets which would, if unchecked, have
certainly resulted in crisis.
Then, secondly, great importance should be attached
to fuller instruction and knowledge on the part of those
engaged in trade not only in the abstract science of
Economics but also in applied business laws and methods,
particularly in the department of finance. A better
study of the laws of commerce will help to prevent over-
production by engendering habits of caution and reserve.
Also, bankers must learn in times of prosperity not to
risk their money by lending too freely, and not to en-
courage doubtful investment on the part of speculators.
Thirdly, more important still as a factor for eliminating
and mitigating the effects of crises, is the new light which
* Wc shall presently sec that many of these causes will continue-
to exist under sociali.sm also,
t op. CI/., p. 5«0.
SOCIALISM 207
experience of them has afforded to financiers of the way
in which the beginnings of a crisis ought to be met.
The most acute crises that have arisen in England might
easily have been avoided if bankers knew, what they
know now from bitter experience, that a time of panic
is not a time to close up the coffers and refuse aid to
threatened industries. Granted a fair security, and
demanding just such a rate of interest as is high enough
to discourage those whose businesses are certain to go
under, free and courageous lending is now regarded as
the right policy to adopt when the danger of a crisis
appears. This is now the policy adopted by the Bank
of England, and to the adoption of this policy we owe
it, says Prof. Chapman, that the " crisis in England has
become a rare occurrence." " By the Act of 1844,"
writes Nicholson,* " the Bank cannot issue more than
a certain amount except against gold. A suspension
of the Act, however, enables the Bank in an emergency
to exceed this limit, and the mere announcement of the
suspension has sufficed to allay a panic, as in the crises
of 1847, 1857, 1866." This free and uninterrupted
continuance and extension of credit in time of panic
may lead in time to the almost total elimination of
crises, at least in their more aggravated forms. And
what is true of times of crisis is true of times even of
ordinary depression. " Depression vanishes," writes
Sombart,! "the moment there is a more even flow in
the production of the precious metals."
Lastly, a certain degree of centralisation should be
introduced into our banking system if crises are to be
successfully met, it being impossible that a number of
small banks through the country could possess funds
enough to encourage them to adopt the policy of free
[lending so necessary in times of crisis. In England
* " Principles of Political Economy," II. 203.
t op. cit., p. 86. That crises are not now regarded as evils of
Pgreat permanent importance is shown in an interesting article on
[crises in Palgrave's " Dictionary of Political Economy." We recom-
lend it to the reader.
2o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
concentration is to a large extent effected through the
Bank of England. In America,* writes Taussig,f some
*' substitute for it has been found in the system of
combining their reser\'es by resorting to clearing-house
certificates." Indeed, centralisation in our banking I
system may be regarded as only one of the many ele-
ments that make for the better organisation of commerce
generally, which, as we saw, is the chief, if not the all-
embracing, remedy and preventive of crises. §
* See Herkner's article in " Handworterbuch der Staatswissen-
schaften," vi. 265.
In i860 and 1884 when crisis was threatened in New York it was
the combining of the specie reserves of the various New York banks,
the establishment of a clearing-house system as between these banks,
and the issue of clearing-house certificates that made it possible for
the smaller banks to meet the claims made on them. The threatened
panic was thus allayed. See, in this connection " Economic Essays,"
by Dunbar (Ed. by O. M. W. Sprague).
t Principles of Economics. It is, however, pointed out by Dunbar
(" The Theory and History of Banking ") that the combining of specie
reserves, and resort to the clearing-house certificate system, " though
effective by way of relief is not necessarily salutary as a regular system."
It leads to irresponsibility in the case of the weaker banks.
X See interesting passage in Sombart, op. cit., p. 87.
§ Some writers have attempted to show that crises arc an inherent
evil of capitalism, by attributing crises to some permanent part or
quality of capitalist organisation itself, and not to such mistakes as
are operative in most cases of over-production or to mere accidents
of nature like harvest failures. Division of labour, e.g. it is said
is a growth of capitalism, and division of labour, by separating the
first step in production, i.e. the production of raw materials, by many
stages from the final product and from demand, makes calculation as
to future demand exceedingly difficult and so leads on to crises.
Again, it is asserted, e.g. by Rodbertus and Sismondi, that low
wages are a necessity of capitalism and so the workman is deprived
of the means of purcha.sing the goods produced, thus giving rise to
relative over-production and to crisis ; this evil is increased, it is
said, by a supposed law formulated by Marx, that under capitalism
fixed capital, i.e. machinery, tends to absorb more and more of the
Frofits m proportion to variable capital or wages — (" Capital,"
I. 637).
Again, some argue on the foundation of a supposed law formulated
by Mill, viz. that the profits of capital must tend always to decrease.
When they decrease beyond a certain degree a crisis is precipitated,
capital is destroyed, and then the profits of capital begin to rise again.
These arguments may be briefiy answered as follows : The first
argument explains crises as a result of division of labour. But surely
division of labour will continue under Socialism. Also we contend
that the evils of division of labour belong to the chaotic period of
industry and must disappear with better organisation. The second
SOCIALISM 209
A)^e crises possible under Socialism ?
If the causes or many of the causes that produce
crises are possible under sociaHsm then crises also are
possible under socialism. Now there can be no doubt
that all the principal causes of crises will still be operative
after the capitalist system has been, if it ever should
be, supplanted by socialism. The chief of these causes,
viz. over-production, we shall consider in the last place,
for reasons which will presently appear. Of many of
the rest there is no need to speak at any great length.
Bad harvests will not be eliminated by the advent of
socialism. Torrential rains, destructive drought, pesti-
lence, sun spots,* and all the other forces and events
that affect the quality and extent of harvests are without
dependence on any one form of economic system, and
appear and disappear indifferently under any system.
New inventions are, we suppose, still to be looked for
in the socialist era, and, if economic progress is to con-
tinue, the new and better system must be allowed to
outclass and supplant, just as at present, the inferior
systems. Again, until socialism assumes a settled inter-
national character, i.e. until all the boundaries of States
have been broken down and the whole world becomes
one State under a single government, war must be
reckoned amongst the list of possible human contin-
gencies and, therefore, as a possible cause of crisis.
argument supposes a necessary low level of wages under capitalism.
Tliis assumption we shall disprove in the section to follow. We also
r-eject Marx's contention stated in connection with this second argu-
ment, since it is clear that increase of machinery must cause increase
of employment, and thus by heightening demand, help to prevent
the accumulation of unsaleable goods. Besides, the wage-earners
are not, as is supposed in the present argument, the only consumers.
The third argument is based on Mill's theory of a declining profit-rate,
But this supposed law is made by Mill to depend on so many assump-
tions that its fulfilment need not be feared under modern conditions.
Thus one of the conditions which should be fulfilled before the law
of declining profits could become effective is that capital should
/holly cease to be taken out of the country — (See Mill, " Political
Lconomy," p. 443).
According to Prof. Jevons and many other writers there is an
itimate connection between the appearance of sun-spots and the
periodic recurrence of bad harvests.
VOL. II — 14
210 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Of over-production we must speak at greater length
than of the other causes of crisis, because of the claim
made by socialists that this, the chief cause, is an ex-
clusively capitalist evil and that it can have no place
under socialism. Now, that the main psychological
influences that at present lead to over-production will
disappear with the disappearance of capitalism it would
be as futile to contend as to maintain that human
nature will suffer a complete transformation or eclipse
with the advent of the new era. Indeed, unless these
same psychological influences remain and continue to
be operative with all their present vigour, it is obvious
that the socialist State must speedily be reduced to a
condition of bankruptcy, and that under socialism all
the roads of social and economic progress must be re-
traced. The desire for wealth, at present exercised
wholly in the interest of the individual who amasses the
wealth, is the chief psychological factor responsible for
the present rate of economic progress. Under socialism
this desire for wealth would indeed be exercised,
it is explained, wholly in the interest of the community
at large. But no socialist would maintain that the
desire for wealth will be absent or that the pressure
with which the struggle for enrichment is now waged
could, no matter in what interest it is exercised, be
suffered to abate, even in the smallest degree, without
causing serious detriment to the economic condition
of the whole community. It must be assumed, there-
fore, that under socialism producers will still aim at
seizing every opportunity for the amassing of wealth —
otherwise the socialist State will be of necessity economi-
cally inferior to our own. But where the eager desire
for wealth is, there also will be the possibility of over-
production. For to make profit more and more, it is
necessary to produce commodities more and more,
always, of course, in the hope thai the demand will be
proportioned to the supply. But this is the condition
that cannot always be fulfilled. The demand may not
SOCIALISM 211
be proportioned to supply. If it is not, and in so far
as it is not, production becomes over-production, and
a source of loss to the whole industrial community.
It is important, therefore, to examine the devices
by which the socialists intend to regulate the relations
of supply and demand so that over-production may be
impossible in the socialist State. These devices are
two-fold. First, it is maintained that under socialism
producers will have a better understanding of " the
real nature of productive forces," they will be able to
consult with one another and with others as well, as to
the condition of the market. In this way they will
avoid producing useless commodities, and will at the
same time not lose any opportunity of profiting by new
or increased demands. Knowledge or enquiry of this
kind it is said, " goes against the grain of the capitalist
mode of production and its defenders,"* whereas it is
a natural and necessary feature of socialist production.
Our answer is that it is impossible that capitalists
should not be as eager to understand the effect of the
social forces, in so far as these forces affect production
and consumption, as socialists are, since, under the
capitalist system, any losses that are sustained through
ignorance of them fall personally upon the individual
producer, whereas under socialism such losses would
have to be borne not by the producer alone but by the
whole community. Such knowledge, therefore, cannot
go against the grain of the capitalist any more than
making money goes against his grain. As to the relative
opportunities of the two classes we think that the
balance is not in favour of the socialist producers.
Capitalists may consult with their own agents, whom
they send out into the world's markets, as to the possi-
bilities of future demand ; and these agents are the
keenest judges of future demand. Under socialism, of
course, producers could also consult with their agents,
but to no better effect than present producers can.
k* The argument is developed at length by Engels — op. cit. pp. 70-74.
212 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
In the socialist State, however, there is one apparent
advantage concerning the relations of production and
demand that has to be examined. At present, pro-
ducers are rival competitors with one another, and,
therefore, they cannot consult with one another as to
the rate at which production ought to take place. Each
goes his own way, and, so, over-production is of constant
occurrence. But under socialism, it is said, producers
will not be rivals but partners of one great firm, and,
therefore, they will be able to control production so
that it may never exceed demand. Our view of this
supposed advantage is that, as we have already said, it
is an apparent advantage only. Really it amounts to a
very great evil. Successful production means, not pro-
duction that never exceeds demand, for that could be
effected by hardly producing at all, but production
which, while it does not exceed, is always well up to the
level of demand, and that even to some extent creates
and quickens demand. Undoubtedly, producers, by
friendly consultation, might avoid many of the evils of
over-production, but only, it seems to us, by running
the risk of an opposite and equally great economic
evil, that, viz. of under-production ; and production
regulated by such a standard would mean the easing
off of all that pressure in the industrial world, on the
continued maintenance and increase of which successful
business enterprise in the last instance depends.*
The second method for avoiding over-production
under the socialist scheme is that of production on, or
according to, demand (production sur commande). If
production takes place only according as orders come in,
over-production becomes impossible. Under capitalism,
it is asserted, such a system is out of the question because
• As a matter of fact, consultations amongst producers have not
been able to do more for proportioning production to supply, than
the advice of the ordinary agent acting in conjunction with the pro-
ducer. Herkner points out (" Hand, dcr. St." p. 264) that the forma-
tion of cartels (wliich are generally bodies of producers united together
under certain understandings as to production or distribution) has
in no way affected the occurrence of crises.
SOCIALISM
213
each competitor is eager to forestall all the rest, and
to take all the profits to himself. He will, therefore,
produce before orders are received so as to be ready
for demand when it arises. Under socialism the absence
of competition removes the need of all this feverish
anxiety to anticipate demand.*
The objections to this device need only to be very
briefly stated. First, one does not set up expensive
machinery in order to keep it idle half the year between
the arrival of one order and another ; one sets up ex-
pensive machinery in order to work it all the time, else
it means loss to its owner. Secondly, it is only by pro-
ducing before orders are received that orders can,
generally speaking, be met. If no winter clothing is
made until orders have actually arrived many persons
would be left without winter clothing. And not only
according to this theory, could boots not be made and
garments not be cut and sewn, or machines not con-
structed before orders are actually received, but leather
could not be prepared, nor animals yielding leather
reared, nor cotton spun, nor even the ground tilled,
nor steel prepared, nor could any raw material be pro-
duced until orders for the finished article had first been
duly delivered. Such conclusions show the inner weak-
ness of the whole system of production sur commande.
Anticipation is as necessary as production itself for
meeting market demand. Finally, as we said before,
one of the functions of supply, a function of very great
importance in actual business affairs, is to create demand.
" Production on demand " excludes the exercise of this
function and consequently cuts off one of the chief
sources of a country's wealth. We cannot, therefore,
agree that it is possible to avoid the occurrence of crises
under the socialist system through the process known
as production sur commande. And, therefore, we are
I
* Landry describes this socialist device in his " Manuel d'Econo-
mique," p. 539. An able criticism of the theory is to be found in
Sehgman's work already quoted.
214 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
forced to the conclusion that over-production will still
have to be regarded as a possible cause of crises in the
socialist era as well as now.
The results of our reasoning in the present section are
as follows : under the system of the private ownership
of capital, crises have been no doubt of frequent occur-
rence. But the danger of them is gradually being
eliminated and their consequences are becoming of less
and less importance in the economic world. Under
socialism, crises will occur just as under capitalism, since
all the causes of crises will continue in the socialist era.
Our reasoning, however, in the following chapter, will
go to show that the nation at large will be under much
less favourable conditions in the socialist State than
now for bearing the burden of crises when they arise.
The Exploitation of Labour
This and the next two arguments of Marx were of
the nature of prophecy, and, therefore, they may be
briefly disposed of by the test of actual accomplished
fact.
Want of space forbids our quoting at length Marx's
terrible indictment against capitalism, under the head
of " exploitation." The capitalist, he tells us, endeav-
ours to make all the profit he can out of the labourer.
He does so in three waj's, first, by lowering the male
labourer's wage to the bare subsistence level, and also
by employing women and children at a wage below this
level ; secondly, by prolongation of the working di\y,
allowing the labourer only just so much rest in each
twenty-four hours as will fit him to continue his drearj-
work during the next twenty-four ; * thirdly, by in-
creased intensification of labour, by speeding up
* Wc are conscious of the inadequacy, amounting almost to unfair-
ness, of our presentation of Marx's powerful ar>,Miment here. It is
only want of space that forbids our quoting him at length. The
argument is given in Vol. II. ch. xv. of " Capital."
SOCIALISM
215
machinery to its utmost, and placing the workman
over just as many high-speed machines as he is able
to control without losing control over his own reason.
The indictment is a terrible one, and as a picture of
the workings of capitalism in Marx's time it probably
is not exaggerated. Indeed, even now there is much of
Marx's description that accords with the actual con-
ditions obtaining in our factories.
But Marx's argument was intended to stand for more
than a mere statement of the condition of things ob-
taining at any particular period. It was intended as
a statement of the abiding condition of labour under
capitalism, of a condition of things that is as necessary
under the capitalist system as frost and snow are in
the polar regions. As such the argument fails. The
greed of capitalists has not been allowed to run riot
with the labourer's interests. In every civilised country
the capitalist finds himself checked and controlled at
many points by governmental interference, by public
opinion, and by combinations amongst workmen them-
selves. He cannot now emplo}^ women and children
just as, and on whatever conditions, he desires. He
cannot employ even men for more than the legitimate
number of hours. In many departments of industry
the weekly half-holiday is now prescribed by law. The
capitalist must also set aside some of the surplus-value
of labour in order to provide the proper amount of light
and air, and to meet the other requirements of the
factory laws as to sanitation. He must insure his men
against sickness and accident. He must protect their
lives by the adoption of stringent precautions in regard
to danger arising from machinery. In innumerable
ways the danger of exploitation has been reduced, so
that it cannot now be said that capitalism is a system
based on exploitation.
Nevertheless much remains to be done both by govern-
ment and by combinations amongst workmen them-
selves. There are capitalists who, if left to themselves.
2i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
would be certain to take advantage of the labourer's
poverty, which it is said, will at times induce the labourer
to do almost anything for almost nothing ! It may be
said even that most capitalists would do so. But in
order to determine the essential characteristics of the
capitalist system one must take account not merely of
what capitalists would, if unchecked, be likely to do,
but also of what government has done and is still able
to do, and of the capacity of organised labour to protect
its own interest, first by way of direct action, and,
secondly, indirectly, through their influence over govern-
ment ; and judging by this standard it is certain that
exploitation is not essential to the system of private
capital.
But again, just as in the question of crises, so also
in regard to exploitation, our findings of the chapter to
follow are of immense importance in any comparison
of private capitalism with socialism. Overwork, work
under unsanitary conditions, and the other evils con-
tained under " exploitation " are all so many particular
grievances going to show that the welfare of the work-
man is not attained under capitalism. But the central
and essential condition of welfare is the remuneration
which a man receives for his work. Where the re-
muneration is good the other grievances are certain
gradually to be remedied. In a system that does not
allow of a proper remuneration there is no kind of ex-
ploitation that may not be practised, since there will
be no money to provide the required amenities. Now,
under socialism, the remuneration of labour will be far
below the level at which it now stands. Indeed, under
socialism, as we shall see in the next chapter, a prospect
even more alarming than that of insufficient remunera-
tion has to be contemplated, viz. the prospect of national
bankruptcy with all that this condition means for a
large industrial proletariat.
SOCIALISM 217
The Reserve Army of Labour
Under the capitalist syfctem, Marx tells us, there must
always exist a reserve army of labour, that is, of un-
employed. These are thrown out of work partly through
crises, and partly through the capacity of machinery to
render men superfluous. What is more, this reserve
army must always be on the increase. Every improve-
ment in machinery and every increase in the number
of machines leads to further disemployment ; and since,
as we have already seen, more and more of the surplus
profit of industry is turned into machinery as profits
increase, it follows that the number of the unemployed
must necessarily become at each period a relatively
greater f>er-centage of the entire population.*
Reply. — Let us first accept the argument in the sense
in which socialists usually understand it, namely, that,
under capitalism, unemployment tends to increase, in
which sense alone it can be regarded as a serious indict-
ment against the capitalist system. As a statement of
the facts the argument is false in every way. There has
been no increase in the number of unemployed in Eng-
land from the year 1865 till the present time. The
following list of per-centages of employed within the
ranks of trades unionists is given by Webb f : —
I865-I87I .
. 98.7 per cent
I872-I88I .
. 98.9
I882-I888 .
. 96.8 „
I889-I898 .
. 98.3 ,.
I 899-1 907 .
. 98.4 „
* This is the sense in which Marx's words are usually understood —
" The labouring population," he writes (Vol. II. 645), " therefore^
produces, along with the accumulation of capital produced by it,
the means by which itself is made relatively superfluous, is turned
into a relative surplus population, and it does this to an always in-
creasing extent." We shall see, however, in the text above that this
is not the sense in which Marx's argument ought to be understood if
it is to be regarded as consistent with itself and with the grounds on
which it is made to rest.
t " Dictionary of Statistics," p. 612.
2i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
After that period there was a decided increase in the
per-centage of employed.
More interesting still are the following accounts of
the absolute figures of unemplo3'ment : between the
years 1849-1900, during which the population of Eng-
land and Wales rose from seventeen to thirty-two
millions odd, the number of unemploj'ed fell from
934,419 to 797,630.* Again, in France there were at
the end of the nineteenth century about 5,600,000
workers. The average number of unemployed, according
to the census of 1896-1900, was 300,000.! These in-
cluded sick, idle, incapable, and strikers. But even
supposing that they were all men capable and willing
to work, that is not a bad system which out of 5,600,000
men can maintain in employment a permanent 5,300,000.
Besides, a large percentage of these belong to Paris —
the city of the poor and unemployed. These, indeed,
are always very numerous. Nevertheless it has been
pointed out by M. Leroy-Beaulieu % that the number
of unemployed in Paris in 1895 was not greater than that
of 1803 although the population had increased fourfold
in the interval.
In Germany the number of unemployed is even less
than in England. In 1895 the unemployed in Germany
represented in summer time only .58% of the entire
population § and in winter 1.48, or an average of
1.03% for the whole year, a very small per-centage in-
deed. It, of course, also includes the unwilling, and
the incapacitated, as well as those genuinely kept
out of employment.
But economists do not rely on statistics merely for
their reply to the socialist arguments ; they point out
that from the very nature of our modern system of
• Quoted by M. Leroy-Beaulieu in his " Le Collectivisme," p. 317.
t Figures arc given by Mermcix, " Le Socialisme," p. 228.
X p. 3^2-
§ In fairness wc should- add that of the working population in the
same year the unemployed constituted 1.35 and 3.46 per cent. (See
Art. Arbcitblosigkcit in " Hand. der. St.").
SOCIALISM 219
production it is clear that unemployment cannot go on
increasing except during the very brief periods that are
required for adjustment between new discoveries on
the one hand and the opening of new markets and
the setting up of the allied industries on the other.
Machinery may momentarily disemploy a certain num-
ber, but by cheapening goods it opens up new markets
for them, and thus increases demand again. The disem-
ployed are then reinstated in their old positions. Again,
most new inventions bring into being a number of allied
or dependent businesses, and in this way, though tem-
porary unemployment may occur, the balance of em-
ployment is always being restored.*
Finally, as has already been said, according to Marx
himself the law of increase in the per-centage of un-
employed is a law of relative increase only. But relative
! to what ? Most socialists maintain that increase in
unemployment must necessarily be relative to the total
population, i.e. that if at one period the unemployed
are one -per-cent. of the population, at another they will
constitute two per-cent., at another three per-cent. This
is the sense in which we have hitherto been interpreting
Marx's argument, and it is the only sense in which the
argument could, if true, be made to tell against the
capitalistic system. As a matter of fact, however, this
is not the sense which Marx himself intended to convey.
He even confesses that with the creation of new
machinery the new " factory operatives . . . may be-
come more numerous than the manufacturing workmen
and handicraftsmen that have been displaced." f But
he claims that there is always a relative decrease, in
the sense that a much smaller proportion of the surplus-
profit of labour must always go in payment of wages
I to the newly employed than that which is put into the
* On this point see Marshall, op. cit. p 665, and Chapman,
* Political Economy " (Home University Library, p. 223 and 226).
t Vol. II. p. 451.
220 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
number of employed is, we claim, quite consistent with
decrease in the number of the unemployed, and even
with the total elimination of unemployment ; and,
therefore, in this sense the argument is of no avail
against the capitalist system. What harm, even though
much money has to go into machinery, if thereby the
wages-bill of the nation as well as the number of
employed receive substantial increase ?
Let it not be understood, however, that it is any part
of our purpose here to minimise the dreadful evils of
unemployment. It is one of the first duties devolving
on any government to check these evils, and not to
leave the unfortunate workman at the mercy of every
adverse wind that blows in the industrial world. The
question, however, how unemployment is actually to
be met is one that lies beyond the scope of the present
work.*
The Iron Law of Wages
A direct result of the maintenance under the capitalistic
system of the reserve army of unemployed is, say the
socialists, the setting up of an " iron law of wages,"
the law, viz. that workmen find themselves so com-
pletely at the mercy of the capitalist, and so hard set
to find employment that they are willing to accept em-
ployment on any terms, even to accepting such a re-
muneration as barely suffices to keep body and soul
together. The capitalist is not unwilling to utilise this
necessitous condition of his employees, on the contrary,
he exerts all his influence to keep them in that position,
and 80 in employing labour he strikes the hardest
bargain possible, which is that of the bare subsistence
wage. Wages may sometimes rise above this level.
But their tendency is to remain always as little over it
as possible. This is the " iron law of wages," a law
first formulated by Lassalle and later adopted by Marx.
• Sec Chapman, " Political Economy," p. 341 ; also Beveridge^
" Unemployment."
SOCIALISM 221
Reply. — This argument, like the last, may be answered
by an appeal to facts. Have wages tended to remain
at the bare subsistence level ? All authorities, including
even the best known socialist writers, admit that in this
matter the Marxian prophecy has remained unfulfilled.
" Political Economy," writes Prof. Cannan,* " in these
days knows no iron or brazen law of wages." The
following facts are sufficiently indicative of the reason
why the " iron law of wages " is not now accepted by
economist or statistician. The wages of labour have
increased both relatively and absolutelj^ " In France,"
writes Sombart,f " an official enquiry at the Office d'u
Travail showed that wages had been doubled since
1850 . . . the cost of living has not increased by more
than 25%." Sidney Webb % points out that in England,
between the years 1837 and 1897, money wages doubled.
The price of food on the other hand, with the exception
of meat and milk, was lower in the latter year than
in the former. Only rent had risen. Giffen, in his
" Essays in Finance," § shows that in the fifty years
anterior to 1883 wages had risen for the most part about
50%. In some cases, indeed, wages advanced only 20% ;
but these were all cases in which the wages received
had always stood at a high level, e.g. the case of mule-
spinners whose wages even fifty years ago varied from
25s. 6d. per week to 30s. In some cases wages rose as
much as 150%. Again, he shows, that whereas wages
have risen in the way described, the hours of labour
have fallen by 20%. " The workman," he writes, " gets
from 50 to 100% more money for 20% less work ; in
round numbers he has gained from 70 to 120% in fifty
years in money return." As regards purchasing power
he writes : " there seems to be little doubt things are
* " The Economic Outlook," p, 77.
t op. cit. p. 85. Sombart, as already stated, is professor of
Political Economy in the commercial college (Handelshochschule)
of Berlin. He is also a Socialist.
X " Industrial Democracy," Appendix III. Sidney Webb is also
a Socialist.
§ P- 372.
222 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
much the same as they were fifty years ago." The price
of wheat is lower, and this low average, he remarks^
" is enhanced by the fact that it is not an average lying
between widely distant extremes." The only article,,
we are told,* which has increased in price is meat, but
this rise is largely due to the fact that the consumption
of meat amongst the working classes is so much greater
than it was.
Of Germany, Sombart writes : " The facts are the
same in Germany. There is no doubt that the majority
of the working classes are better off than they were
fifty or one hundred years ago, and that the proportion
of the very poor of the population is smaller, certainly
during the last decade or so. In Saxony, for example,.
in 1879 the people with an income less than 500 Mk.
formed 51.5% of the population ; in 1894 they were
only 36.59% ; in 1900 only 28.29%."
The foregoing figures and others to be found in recent
economic writings are regarded by all thinkers, even
those who belong to the socialist school, as affording a
complete refutation of Marx's " iron law of wages."
♦ p. 380. As regards more recent years we find it exceedingly
difficult to reach anything like a general yet sufficiently definite
conclusion with which to compare the figures given above. In this
matter the variation of opinion is quite bewildering. Thus, Mr,
L. G. Chiozza Money, in an article in the Daily News and Leader,
February 20th, 191 3, writes that " the purchasing power of the
sovereign in relation to ' other things ' has fallen by at least 10%
since 1895. . . . Cash wages fortunately have not remained stationary
since 1895. They have risen broadly by about 12^% in 1895-1911.
It will be obvious, however, that such a rise is not nearly enough to
compensate for the increased cost of living. Real wages have
fallen," etc. In the same paper there appeared an important article
written January i6th, 1914, to the effect that the prices of all manu-
factured articles had fallen considerably " from old days." This,
second fact docs not seem to have been taken sufficiently into account
in the first article. We arc, however, prepared to admit that real
wages have fallen in the sense that the purchasing power of the
sovereign has fallen of recent years. It is just one of those many
cases in which readjustment is slow to appear. That wages will rise
to right this fall in purchasing power is certain. But adjustment
Bhould be hastened by means of pressure brought to bear upon govern-
ment, and through action on the i)art of the organised societies of
labour. The poor cannot, as the rich can, await the process of auto-
matic adjustment. The foregoing facts, however, in no way confirm
the theory of an " iron law of wages."
SOCIALISM 223
Some recent modifications of the theory of the " Iron Law of
Wages."
For the foregoing reasons we find that the supposed " iron
law " ha? been made to undergo modifications at the hands
of the more recent socialists which entirely alter its character
and meaning. It has lost in definiteness but has gained in
width of application. The new "iron law" may be sum-
marised as follows : * — {a) although the wages of labour are
not found to remain at the bare subsistence level, neverthe-
less the natural tendency of capitalists is to keep them at
that level ; {h) though wages have increased, the moral
condition of the worker has not improved. Factories are
still sinks of iniquity. Workmen are still treated by their
masters as slaves, not as men ; (c) though physiologically
the lot of workmen is improved in the sense that they eat
more and wear better clothes, psychologically their misery is
increased, since, as civilisation grows, the needs of workmen,
as of all other classes, grow, and the increased wage of labour
is not sufficient to meet those expanding needs. Fifty
years ago workmen did not need to be educated ; now
education is an essential of civilised life. Yet most work-
men can afford to give their children only the minimum of
education ; {d) the proletariat is poorer in the sense that
it is relatively poorer than it was fifty years ago. It receives
a gradually diminishing share of the ever increasing returns
of industry.
Reply. — In general the foregoing arguments seem to aim
at epitomising all the evils of capitalism. But every system,
even that of the socialists, has its defects. And the question
is whether socialism would not induce evils graver and more
numerous than those of capitalism. This latter question we
shall review in one of its most important aspects, that,
viz. of the receipts of workmen, in the following chapter.
Let us briefly, however, refer to the different classes of
defects here enumerated by the sociahsts. {a) That
capitahsts would be bad if they could we shall admit at
least for the sake of argument. But, after all, the tendency
of capitahsts to keep down wages makes very little difference
to workmen if as a matter of fact the wages of workmen are
found actually to increase. The sea would certainly engulf
swimmers if they made no struggle to keep afloat, yet, since
len do find it possible to keep afloat, the sea is not looked
♦ A large part of Kautsky's able work, " Le Marxisme et sou
Critique Bernstein," is devoted to an elaboration of this new " iroa
iw."
224 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
■upon as an enemy to mankind. (6) We have much sym-
pathy with the complaints of sociahsts in regard to the
moral degradation of factory operatives, and we beheve
that government should do more to raise their condition,
or at all events to remove the causes of degradation. But
we are not so sure that the principal causes of this degrada-
tion will be removed by making all factories the property
of the State. A little thought will make it clear to the
reader that there are moral evils which no economic system
could entirely remove, (c) The increasing needs of labour
are partly due to increase in good living, according to the
well-known rule that the more a man has the more he wants,
and partly through the general advance of civilisation.
Now it is obvious that capitalism should not be repudiated
for increasing the needs of workmen in the first of the two
ways here indicated, any more than food is condemned for
increasing a man's need of further food by the additional
vigour that it imparts. If, however, it is found that the
labourer's income does not expand according as the needs
of civilisation increase, then indeed the socialists have a
case, not necessarily for establishing socialism, but for
bringing such pressure to bear on government and capitalists
as will ensure to workmen such an income and such oppor-
tunities for development as each succeeding advance in
civiUsation requires, {d) We quite agree that workmen do
not at present receive their proper proportion of the national
dividend in the form of wages, and that steps will have to
be taken to remove such injustices from our present system.
But the question arises — Will the receipts of labour be
greater under socialism than they are under capitalism with
all its defects and injustices, real and alleged ? Our answer
to this question, which is of prime importance, will be given
in the following chapter, where we hope to show that the
share of the national income available for labour will certainly
not be greater under the sociahst rei^ime than it is now —
on the contrary, for the greater body of workmen, and in
particular for the whole body of skilled mechanics, it will
be much less.*
• We may be allowed at the close of the present chapter to record
our opinion that whatever may be said of others there is one class of
workman whose interests will require to be especially cared for in
any new scheme of wages that government may think of initiating
under the present system of private capital. We refer to the unskilled
hands, whose wages are certainly well below the minimum required
by humanity and justice, and who by their very numbers and poor
condition arc placed so much at the mercy of unscrupulous capitalists.
Sec the question of the wages-contract, p. 34.}.
CHAPTER VII
PRESENT WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES
COMPARED
Before proceeding to discuss the problem of the
national dividend under socialism and how it compares
with present wages, we think it necessary to make a
few introductory remarks on the general position of
present-day wage-earners as compared with that which
the masses are to occupy under socialism.
Under the capitalist system the workers are all wage-
earners. Now what is the meaning of this term, " wage-
earner," in which, the socialists tell us, are summed up
all the evils attendant upon the capitalist system ? A
wage-earner is usually understood to mean one who is
in daily or weekly receipt of a certain agreed sum for
work done in the interest of his employer. And this
definition is true so far as it goes ; but it fails to specify
what, to our mind, is the chief characteristic of the
wage-earner's position in the industrial world to-day,
viz. that not only is he paid his wages at regular and
brief intervals, but he is paid the full agreed sum,
whether the profits of the undertaking go up or down,
or even if these profits disappear altogether. His position
in this respect is in marked contrast to that of the
capitalist. The capitalist is, indeed, owner of the
firm which he sets up and controls, but when the con-
cern which is his property fails, i.e. when it ceases to
be a source of profit to its owner, then all that he has
contributed to the firm is lost irretrievably, the money
which he has expended in machinery and buildings, the
wages paid, the time and attention given ; very often,
long before a capitalist business is finally wound up, and
long after failure has begun to set in, the capitalist may
VOL. II IS 225
226 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
still be working at a loss, but the wage-earner must
still in every case receive the stipulated wage. His is
the first claim on the concern, and, failing the concern,
on the pocket of the capitalist himself. At present
there are millions and millions of pounds invested in
industrial and other concerns in England from which
capitalists receive no return ; but the workman is paid
his full wages in every case. In railways alone in the
United Kingdom there is invested at present in ordinary
stock no less a sum than £67,000,000 on which no dividend
is paid ; preference and debenture railway shares absorb
nearly eighteen millions of wo«-dividend-bearing capital.
There are private steel works in England in which large
bodies of men continue to be employed, which, yet,
yield in some cases a merely nominal profit, in other
cases no profit whatsoever. Yet the workmen are
fully paid in every case. It would be difiicult to state the
total amount of capital lost each year in the industrial
world generally through unprofitable businesses ; but it
is computed * that in the United Kingdom a hundred
millions are annually invested and lost in unremunerative
concerns of one kind or another. We do not claim that
in these cases the capitalist is actuated b}' any philan-
thropic or other high motive in still paying wages for
work that has ceased to be remunerative to himself.
As long as capitalist concerns continue in existence it is
evident that hopes are still entertained that failure will
ultimately be turned into success, and that they will
bring a profit to the capitalist. Neither are we attempt-
ing to discover any special excellence in the position of
the wage-earner as compared with that of the present-
day capitalist. Indeed, it is not our purpose to con-
trast or compare their positions in any way. For the
present we are simply attempting to define the position
of the wage-earner f under capitalism in order to com-
• Ircson, " The People's Progress," p. to6.
t Wc do not claim that the waRcs system is the best of all systems-
for securing the welfare of the masses. l'"ar better would it be in
saany respects if the masses were property-holders as in times long
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 227
pare it with the position which workmen are in future
to occupy under the socialist regime. Our sole con-
tention at present is that, whatever may be the actuating
motive of the capitalist, and however well or badly
capitalists may fare in their respective enterprises, the
position of the wage-earner always is that as long as
he continues to be employed the law assures him his
full weekly wage.
Under socialism the workers will no longer be wage-
earners but partners in the nation's wealth. They will
receive, not a settled and permanent weekly wage, but
a certain annual or bi-annual share in the varying profits
of the nation. They will share, therefore, in all the
increasing prosperity of the nation ; but they will
share in its losses, too — in the decreases as well as in
the increases. On which side the balance is likely to
occur, whether on the side of profit or of loss, or whether
the socialist workman's share of the profits is likely to
be greater or less than the average wages paid under
capitalism, is the question with which this chapter is
concerned, and which we now go on to t:onsider.
Our difficulty here is to select a standard country
and a standard period on which to base our comparison.
Wages differ in different countries and at different
periods. The national income varies in a similar manner.
We make bold, however, in our present discussion to
select England as our standard country,* and the year
1904-5 as our standard year. Our choice as regards
nationality will easily be understood. England is one
of the oldest and most developed of all industrial
countries, and the conditions of employment obtaining
there represent the normal relations of capitalist to
employee more clearly than is elsewhere the case. The
particular year selected needs justification. The year
I past. For the present our purpose is to show that the position of
■wage-earners is better than that of the masses under the socialist
State.
* Other countries will also come up for discussion in the course
228 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
1904-5 was a normal 3^ear industrially regarded. There
was no extraordinary boom in trade and no exceptional
amount of depression, and it is the normal conditions
that are of importance in our present discussion. Also
in regard to this year there is available the important
evidence given before the Select Committee on Income
Tax in 1906.* Again, since 1905, there has been ample
time to examine the distribution of income in that year
and to build reflections on it, so that there is now
available a large amount of literature, socialist and
otherwise, occupied with the distribution of income, in
this and proximate years ; and though agreement is
far from established, even amongst socialist writers, as
to the exact figures in these cases, still, materials are
presented to us which will enable any student to form a
general idea of the national income and its distribution,
sufficiently accurate for purposes of our present com-
parison. There are, as we said, divergencies of view
as to the right figures, but fortunately, such is the
character of the considerations on which our comparison
is to be based, that even very wide divergencies of view
may be allowed for, without in any way lessening the
value of our conclusion as to the relative merits of the
two economic systems now under examination.
In the year 1904-5, according to the calculations of
Sir Henry Primrose, f the national income was roughly
1,750 millions. That income was divided as follows :
• See Report, 365.
t Sir Henry Primrose was Chairman of the Board of Inland Revenue.
His evidence given before the Committee on income tax in 1906 occurs
on pp. I and following of report 365.
Before asking the reader to consider the figures given in the text
we wish to make a few preparatory remarks.
First, we ask the reader not to begin the reading of our argument
with the belief that figures may be made to prove anything. By no
feat of mathematical jugglery could you represent five pounds as
yielding a pound each to six persons. Our argument concerns the
division of the national income, and used aright the figures can yield
but one valid conclusion.
Secondly, we wish to point out that Sir Henry Primrose's figures
stand for a sensible mean reading of the various views obtaining on
this subject. Thus Sir Robert Gificn gives 1,750 millions as the
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 229
728 millions was income subject to income-tax,* and,
therefore, was appropriated by persons earning over
£160 a year. The remainder, i.e. 1,022 millions was the
income of persons not paying income-tax. According
to Mr. Ireson's estimate this latter sum was divided
between {a) non-manual wage-earners (clerks, teachers,
etc.), (6) manual wage-earners (smiths, boiler-makers,
income of 1903. Mr. Chiozza Money represents the income of 1907
by the same figure. These figures cannot both be right.
Thirdly, Mr. Chiozza Money represents the national income as
standing at a lower figure than that given by Sir H. Primrose. In
1903-4 he tells us it was 1,710 millions. It would be a little more in
1904-5. This lower figure is used by Mr. Chiozza Money to show
how small is the proportion of the national income going to the working
classes or those who do not pay income tax, the amount received by
the income tax-payers being known, and absorbing, he tells us, nearly
half the whole sum. Now at present we are not considering the
question whether a fair proportion of the national income goes to the
working classes. We believe that they do not get a fair proportion.
At present, however, the problem before us is different from this.
We are comparing the position of the workman in regard to income
under capitalism and under socialism, and the point which we wish
to bring out in the present note is, that if Mr. Chiozza Money's figures
represent a genuine grievance of the working classes, they also tell
against socialism, in fact, they prejudice the socialist position from the
start. If the national income in the year under examination were
1,710 millions, as Mr. Money states, and not 1,750 millions, then the
dividend to be received by each citizen under socialism will be smaller
than it would be on Sir Henry Primrose's computation. For this
reason, in as much as we do not wish to prejudice the case against
socialism from the start, and also because Sir Henry Primrose's
figures seem more convincing in themselves, we adopt the latter's
account of the national income in 1904-5.
Our fourth point is that whether we accept the figures given by
Sir Henry Primrose or others given by other witnesses before the
Committee on Income Tax, makes hardly any, if any, difference to
the conclusion which we shall finally draw from these figures. As is
said in the text such is the character of our present enquiry that very
large differences might be allowed without in any way affecting the
final result.
In the last place we wish to warn the reader against certain most
misleading statements of the national income in which writers do not
hesitate to put down as true income what in reality is stated in the
Inland Revenue reports to be only the amount reviewed for purposes
of assessments. Of this over 200 millions is over-assessment, and
much of this 200 millions is not received by anybody in the land.
This is clearly expressed in the Inland Revenue Reports themselves.
A most glaring misrepresentation of this kind is found in the well-
known Fabian tract, " Facts for Socialists," No. 5.
* This figure was an estimate ; it fell below the actual returns
published later, by a negligible quantity.
I It is claimed by some writers that the figure given in the text
230 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
miners, etc., as well as unskilled labourers), and (c) in-
competents and casuals occupied on irregular and un-
certain work. Now of this 1,022 millions by far the
largest sum went to the second class, viz. (manual wage-
earners) — in all it amounted to about 750 millions.
The non-manual wage-earners received about 247
millions, and the incompetents and casuals about 25
millions.
Now let us see what is the meaning of these figures
in terms of family income. There were in England, in
the year under discussion, about ten million families,
one million of which were rich, in the sense that they
paid income-tax, the other nine millions of which were
poor in the sense that they paid no income-tax. These
latter we speak of as working families. Striking an
average we find that the average income earned by these
working families in the year 1905 was £113 per family.*
as representing the sum on which income tax is paid is too low since
it takes no account of evasions in income tax returns. Now in the
report of the Select Committee on income tax of 1906 it is pointed out
that on four-fifths of the national income there is no room whatever
for evasion, since the tax is either assessed at the source or because
the use of certain special regulations makes evasion impossible. On
the remaining one-fifth only a comparatively small amount of evasion
can take place, and, as Mr. Ireson points out, even this amount is
" more than counterbalanced " by the fact that many people pay on
an assessed income which is much above the true income, and also
that in assessing income no allowance is made for loss of capital due
to bad investments, unsuccessful trading, etc. Income tax is paid on
all income, even such part of it as is later invested in things that
turn out to be a failure. The true net income, therefore, taking two
or three years together will be less than the sum given in the assess-
ment returns. See very interesting discussion on this subject in
Mr. Ircson's book, " The People's Progress," ch. x. and xi.
* We make no apology for the following lengthy quotation from
Mr. Ircson's book (p. 8) : " The figure (^113) is slightly higher than
is admitted by any of the Socialist statisticians, but in this connection
attention may be drawn to the following, written in 1909 : ' The
expenditure in poor relief in England and Wales is about i.\ millions.
The cost of old age pensions must be placed at another H millions.
In addition to this there is a very large outlay by charitable institu-
tions in London alone, according to the latest issue of the Annual
Charities Kegistcr an income of over ten millions is annually expended
by charitable agencies. If wc allow half as much more for the rest
of the country, nearly 40 millions is, in one way or another, being
expended on the poor. In addition to this there is 20 millions, raised
by taxation, applied to the education of the children of the masses,
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 231
Of course this is an average lying between very wide
extremes, and it is important for our present discussion
that these extremes should be noted. The 750 millions
earned by manual labour were earned by about 6 million
families receiving an average of ;£i25 per family. The
247 millions that went to non-manual labour were
divided between 2 million families, giving an average
a little below the last figure (£123) whilst the 25 millions
absorbed by the incompetents and casuals were the
earnings of a million families. Again, we have to point
out that the earnings of the manual labourers were
very varied. Of the 750 millions earned by manual
labour, about 75 millions went to unskilled artisans
earning less than a pound a week. In England there
were about a million and a half such families. The
rest, i.e. 675 millions went to skilled labour representing
472 million families,* who, therefore, enjoyed an average
income of some £150 a year. From the foregoing state-
ment let us recall certain salient figures which it is
important to bear in mind in connection with the com-
parison to follow. The total income of the Vnited Kingdom
in the year 1905 was about 1,750 millions. Of this about
1,022 millions went to the poor, that is, to persons earning
less than £160 a year. The average income of each poor
family including the very poorest, i.e. the incompetent and
casuals was £113. The largest section of these (i.e. the
4^ million families of the skilled manual workers) received
£150 a year on an average. Also taking skilled manual
thus bringing the total up to 60 millions annually." This last sum
in Mr. Ireson's statement needs, however, to be lessened. Much of
it is itself subscribed by the poor, in indirect taxation. But whether
the sum ;^ii3 is somewhat larger than the average wage of the workman
or is not, affects, as we have already said, our present discussion in
only a very slight degree, if at all. This will be seen from the nature
of the considerations in the text above.
* This sum may to the reader appear high. But two points have
to be remembered. First, we are dealing here with skilled artisans,
many of whom earn up to three pounds per week. Secondly, we are
dealing with artisans' families (not individuals), in which there are
often two or three wage-earners. In the Referee, July i8th, 1909,
Mr. Sims gives evidence that many workmen's families in England,
by their joint income, earn treble and quadruple the above sum.
232 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
with skilled non-manual workers (i.e. smiths, boiler-makers,
carpenters, etc., on the one hand, and the less opulent clerks,
etc., on the other) we find that of this immense body of
workers (6^ million families out of the 9 million families
that make up the masses, and out of the ten million families
that make up the entire population) the average income
amounted to £142 * a year.
Our next step in the present discussion is to determine
the average income of the working-man's family under
the socialist system. Here, of course, we are met at
the outset by the difficulty that socialists are not agreed
as to the manner in which the national income is to be
divided under the new regime. Some are for equal
distribution all round, others are for graded distribution
according to the value of the work done, the amount of
labour expended, or the disagreeableness of the em-
ployment. Of some of these systems we shall have
to take account in the computation to follow. But,
whatever the system of distribution adopted, the first
problem to be solved, a problem which is in no way
affected by the question of the system of payment to
be applied, is that of the total amount of money avail-
able for annual distribution under the socialist scheme.
In this connection we naturally resume our consideration
of the sum of money available in the year 1905. In
that year, as we saw, the total income of the United
Kingdom amounted to 1,750 millions. Now it is
evident that not all of this immense sum would be
* Ircson, Table B. Mr. Chiozza Money, in " Riches and Poverty,"
gives figures which would place the average income of this last class
at £i2o per family. Mr. Ircson demonstrates fully that this figure is
too low. But, as we said before, for purposes of our computation
wc might easily accept it, without in the least affecting the conclusion
to which our argument leads. Also, if Mr. Chiozza Money's figure
is to stand he must be prepared to accept the logical conclusion already
referred to (p. iH}). His figure brings down the total income of the
nation below the figure given by Mr. Ircson, and, therefore, reduces
correspondingly the dividend possible under sociali.sm — a consequence,
as wc said before, most unfavourable to socialism as compared with
the present wages system.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 233
available for distribution under socialism. On the
contrary, before distribution could be begun, several
important deductions would have to be made for one
or other of the many purposes inseparable from industry.
In the first place a very large sum would have to be
deducted from the public national income (as it is now
deducted, for the most part, from the capitalist's
private income) for purposes of renewal and increase of
capital, i.e. of plant, and of buildings, since without
increase of capital, industry could not continue to make
progress, and, without renewal, industry could not even
be maintained. It is not easy to determine the exact
sum required lor renewal and increase of capital in
the United Kingdom. In 1913, according to Mr.
Chiozza Money,* a sum of 350 millions would be re-
quired. We are safe, then, in claiming that in the year
1905 a sum of 250 millions was spent on these two
purposes. This reduces the available income to 3,50a
millions.
From this again a second deduction has to be made
under the head of the expenses of government. An
eminent socialist writer f has told us that under socialism
more money will be required for governmental purposes
than under the capitalist system since more work will
be undertaken by the socialist government. Certainly
the expenses of government will be at least as much ;
and hence all that is at present raised as income tax,
and all that comes under the heading of local rates
will have to be provided in the new regime, and must,
therefore, be deducted from the national income before
distribution can begin. :|: Now, in 1905 the income-tax
of the United Kingdom amounted to 31 million pounds,
and the amount of public rates collected for local pur-
* Daily News and Leader, July i8th, 1913.
t Karl Kautsky, " The Morrow of the Socialist Revolution," p. 17.
X The other sources of government income, stamps, customs, etc.,.
will probably exist under socialism just as now and need not, therefore,,
be counted here. But income tax and rates will not be paid. An
equivalent sum will be deducted before distribution occurs.
234 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
poses was 67 millions.* We are content for the sake of
argument to take the very low figure of 50 millions as
sufficient to defray the expenses of government under
these two headings in the socialist scheme, thus reducing
the amount available for distribution to 1,450 millions.
A third reduction to be effected comes under the
heading of " doubly-paid income tax." The real and
actual national income as determined on the basis of
income-tax is always an over-estimate. A particular
individual may pay income-tax on £1,000, but on much
of that same £1,000 income tax is certain to be paid
over again, for instance on the £100 which is paid out
of it in doctor's fees. Proceeding on the basis of income-
tax the total income would here be represented at
£1,100, whereas in reality only £1,000 of real divisible
income existed. Under socialism, where the money
has actually to be divided, only real divisible income
must be taken into account, and, therefore, in determin-
ing the amount available for distribution under socialism
we must deduce from the national income that portion
which has been counted twice over in the way described.
What is the amount of that portion ? In the year 1886,
according to Prof. Leone Levi f the amount of doubly-
taxed income was something like 100 millions. It could
not be less in 1905. In this way the sum of 1,450
millions already computed falls further to 1,350 millions,
but lest any unfairness to the socialist case may possibly
have escaped us (and we do not think it has) we shall
allow for the present the sum to be divided to stand at
1,400 millions.
As yet we have not spoken of other factors that under
socialism are certain to bring down the available national
income, and of one in particular which will reduce the
sum available for distribution by an even greater amount
than the total of deductions already considered ; these
additional factors we shall mention presently. But for
• Webb, " Dictionary of Statistics," p. 374.
t Quoted by Ircson, op. cit., p. 33.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 235
the moment we wish to review our position and see
what the sociaUst dividend would be if the whole re-
maining 1,400 millions were divided amongst the people,
a supposition, we repeat, which is over-favourable to
socialism, since not only have we already made ex-
cessively large concessions to their case, but also re-
ductions have yet to be made which are of even greater
importance than those which we have hitherto taken
into account.
If the sum of 1,400 millions were divided equally
amongst the entire population it is evident that the
ten million families that constituted the population of
the United Kingdom in the year now under review
would each receive 1^140. The result might then be
stated : under socialism the rich shall all be very much
poorer, the skilled worker (manual and non-manual)
shall be no better off than now (their average at present
being £142) ; only the position of the unskilled workers,
as well as casuals and incompetents (2| millions out of
the total of 10 millions that constitute the nation) shall
be improved. The improvement, however, effected in
the case of these latter classes, is, we must admit,
marked and decisive.
But it is preposterous to think that under socialism
there will be no gradation of incomes, that the directors
of industry will not receive more than others, and the
skilled and fit no more than the unskilled and incom-
petent. Indeed, no socialist that we know of approves
of such a plan. Their only demand is that whatever
may be the system of gradation adopted something
approaching to a system of equality of income should
be observed. Let us see then what the effect will be
^^ when inequalities have been so reduced as to leave the
^^■•emallest possible margin of advantage to superior as
^■compared with the inferior classes of work. Probably
^B the least average * that could be claimed for the
I
* This average, it is understood, should lie between closely situated
extremes.
236 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
unskilled worker's family under the socialist system is
;£ioo a year, an average that would absorb 260 millions
of the available sum. If they received less the whole
socialist theory of equality would fall to the ground.
Next come the directors of industry, great and small,
the men who between them will control the whole com-
mercial system of the nation. We take it that between
head directors, managers, and foremen, a million
functionaries of one kind or another will be required.
It is a small estimate enough, considering that in
France at present 900,000 functionaries are engaged,
and that private capitalism is much more sparing
of functionaries than is any system of public control.
Now these men will to a large extent have the
disposal of the money of the nation in their own
hands. We think, therefore, that we are not going too
far in claiming that they will appoint unto themselves
at least salaries of £230 * a year per family, or a further
230 millions of the available income. We have thus
left for the 6| million workers (manual and non-manual)
a sum of 910 millions or ^^140 for each family per annum. f
Here again our conclusion is easily stated. The rich
and middle classes have all become very much poorer ;
the skilled workers who constitute the great bulk of
the nation are no better off than under capitalism ; the
unskilled and incompetent alone reap any benefit from'
the change, and the benefit reaped by the unskilled
workers is, particularly if we take into account the
improvements which their growing sense of solidarity
enables them to effect, comparatively small. What
now has become of those huge increases of income
that arc to follow the nationalising of capital? Like
the Humbert millions they vanish under the light of
• Ireson, op. dt., p. 38. Wc believe «thc sum would be much
larger. But wc accept this low figure in deference to the socialist
case — it leaves a larger sum for di.stribution among the i)eople.
t The computation might have taken the form that if the skilled
workers' families earned ;^i4o a year, the officials' families would receive-
£2^0, and certainly they will not be content with less.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 237
serious enquiry. They have no existence in fact, or
even in possibility ; and if untrained people are still
found to believe in them it is because such people fail
to grasp certain obvious and indubitable facts, such as
that the same sum of money which is capable of making
a few individuals rich, will not, if taken from those
individuals and divided amongst the people, make a
whole nation rich, or, again, that the present rich do not
consume their whole income, that much of it (in the
year 1913 a sum of 350 millions) is turned into capital,
that such capital will have to be provided under any
system, and that if the rich do not provide it, it must
be provided at the expense of the whole community.*
As yet we have pointed to some only of the expenses,
which must be allowed for, before distribution of the
* It may interest the reader to compare the following with the
computation given in our text : (a) If all the money spent annually
by persons enjoying an income of over ;£70o a year were divided (the
case, of course, is wholly impossible and imaginary) equally amongst
the population of the United Kingdom, it would amount to only
£^^ per family — not a huge sum surely. We say " spent," because
what they save becomes for the most part capital used for industrial
purposes and redounds to the public good, (b) If the total joint
incomes, saved and spent, of all those receiving over ;^2,ooo a year
were equally divided amongst all classes, the addition per family
would not equal £'21 s. year. And out of the common people's salaries
thus increased, provision should be made by government for renewal
and increase of capital, the rich being those that now save most of
what is turned into capital — (See Ireson, Table A.), (c) The total
income of Germany in the year 1908 is placed by Stein Bucher (See
Webb, op. cit. p. 630) at 1,750 millions. The population in that
year was 63 millions, or (allowing 4J persons in the average to each
family) 14 million families. Now deducting 300 millions for purposes
such as we have indicated in the case of England, we find that under
socialism each family would receive about £102. But in Germany
numberless artisans' families receive more than this sum. A brick-
layer in Berlin or Hamburg can himself earn £2 per week. Given
another half-earner in the family and the income will be well beyond
the socialist dividend, {d) The following quotation will give a rough
idea of what, in regard to income, socialism would mean for France ;
"Were the people of France," writes Flint ("Socialism," p. 179),
" to be grouped into households of four individuals each, and the
whole annual income of France equally apportioned among them,
each of these households, it has been calculated, would only receive
'^^^ about three francs a day. Were the workmen to obtain all the profits
^^H >of the capitalists for themselves, even in those trades where there are
^^■the largest capitalists, in scarcely any case would they receive four
^^H shillings a week more than they do."
I
238 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
national income can be effected. Let us now point to»
some further headings of expense. Up to the present
we have made no provision for compensating those
capitahsts whose propert}^ will, under the new regime^
have been taken over by the State. We have conducted
our discussion as if the socialist programme was to-
confiscate by violent means all existing capital and to-
pay not one farthing to owners. But how impossible
all that is, and how unjust to the socialists themselves
will easily be understood. It is impossible because, a»
Kautsky himself admits, a whole army of owners would
instantly be up in revolution, great owners and small
owners, owners of industries, partners in industries,,
shipowners, house-owners, shop-owners, and a million
and a half artisans also, or people earning less than
;£i6o a year, who between them own capital (their own
savings mostly) amounting to a thousand million pounds.*
The suggestion also is most unjust to the socialists whose
efforts at economic re-organisation, it is claimed, are
inspired mainly by considerations of justice and not of
expediency merely. Granted then for the sake of argu-
ment that a large number of capitalists have come by
their property unjustly, nevertheless, the fact remains
that the vast bulk of the existing capital has been justly
acquired and will need to be compensated. And on
what scale are owners to be compensated ? In strict
justice they could not be asked to accept a smaller sum
than they are now enjoying. But this would prove an
intolerable burden to the community. Besides, to com-
pensate capitalists on anything approaching such ai
scale would put sociaHsts in a position at variance with
the socialist principle of the right of all men to equal
treatment by the State. For some capitalists earn
twenty per cent, on their capital, some ten, some five.
Let us agree then to compensation at the low figure of
two per cent., and to be paid on only ten out of the
fifteen thousand millions of capital owned by English-
• Ircson, op. cit. p. 151.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES^ 239
men in 1905.* This means that before distribution of
the national profits could be considered an additional
sum of no less than 200 millions per annum should be
deducted from an already greatly shrunken national
income, with what effect on the salaries of the 6^ million
skilled workers' families the reader can himself readily
compute. That income will certainly, allowing for this
new item of reduction, stand well below the level of
men's present receipts, and not only in the case of the
rich and middle classes and the skilled artisans, but also
in the case of the unskilled and casually employed. A
stage entailing definite loss to every class in the com-
munity has, therefore, now been reached, and as yet
we are not done with the preliminary expenses of socialist
administration or with those reductions in the public
revenue which socialism will necessarily entail, every
item of which must be fully provided for before the
division of the public estate is allowed to be made.
Let us rapidly review some of the other headings of
reduction that must be allowed for in the public
revenue before distribution occurs.
Under socialism an immense decline must necessarily
occur in the manufacture of luxuries, of all those things,,
namely, which only the rich can afford to buy, since
under socialism there are to be no rich people in the
present sense of the word. Again, there will occur a
serious loss of national income due to loss of foreign
trade. f A socialist community, however well socialism
might work in the domain of home business, could not
compete successfully with the thousands of foreign
individual producers working against her for capturing
the foreign markets. She would, therefore, lose her
foreign trade and the present enormous income derived
from it. What that loss would mean in the bulk may
easily be computed from two very simple facts. One ia
that the wages paid in connection with exports amounts.
♦ See Ireson, op. cit. Table J : also Webb,
j See Flint, " Socialism," p. 169.
240 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
at present to a sum equal to one-fifth * of the total
wages-bill of the nation. The second is that the total
value of the exports from Great Britain in the year
1905 amounted to 330 millions, f
An analogous though quite distinct consideration is
that based upon incomes received into the United
Kingdom from investments abroad. At present this
sum is included in the national income. Under the
socialist regime it would not. No man would be such a
fool as to allow the profits of a foreign business to come
into a country where it would immediately find its
way, not into the pocket of the individual owner, but
into the public treasury, for distribution amongst the
whole people. In 1907 it was estimated that the amount
of annual revenue received into the United Kingdom
from investments abroad was £140,000,000.! In 1904-
1905 the amount would, of course, be much smaller,
since this is a source of revenue that has been increasing
very rapidly in recent years. But in that year it should
necessarily have reached a very substantial sum, and
it obviously forms an additional head under which
reduction must occur in the national income, if we are
to determine the proportion of the national income of
1904-5 that could be made available for public dis-
tribution, had socialism been made the working system
of the country in that year.§
Again, a large margin must be allowed for under the
heading of defalcations, which, owing to the special
opportunities for, and even incentives to, dishonesty
that the socialist system will provide, are likely to
occur on a much vaster scale under socialism than
imdcr our present capitalist system. The special
• Sec Board of Trade Returns, Blue Book, Cd. 1761.
t Webb, p. 99.
X See I'inal Report on the First Census of Production of the U.K.
<I907), p. 32- , „
§ This argument is developed in a most intercstmg way by Mr.
Mallock in his work on Social Reform (pp. 83 and 123). His com-
putation, however, concerns a later year, viz. 1910.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 241
incentive to dishonesty is supplied in the meagreness
of the sociaHst salaries compared with what each is
certain to consider the immensity of the services which
he has personally rendered to the State ; and the
required opportunities must necessarily be many where
all the money of the country is handled by men who do
not own it, and on whom the owners cannot, as now,
keep an ever-watchful eye, there being under socialism
no private owners. Most to be feared will be a system
of large-scale fraudulency, the possibilities in regard
to which may be roughly estimated from an event
which is reported * to have occurred in very recent
years in America — and of course under the system of
capitalist management where only a small portion of
the wealth of the country is open to fraudulent handling.
Our point here is that under socialism such frauds and
defalcations must occur more frequently and with
much greater facility since, under socialism, control of
the entire wealth of the country is to be exercised not
by owners but by agents merely, with no watchful
owners to criticise their acts. The occurrence referred
to was of the following kind : About forty years ago,
at the end of an election, it was agreed that the large
speculators " might change metallic silver for gold on
the old basis of exchange at the Treasury. This meant
simply that on depositing in the Treasury a weight of
silver bought in the market for £12 they received gold
to the value of £20. This measure was so ruinous to
the State that it soon became necessary to limit the
present which the government made to a privileged few
to the sum of ;^io,ooo,ooo per annum. When the
Treasury was almost exhausted, and bankruptcy
threatened, the execution of the bill was (of course)
suspended." Now this scandalous piece of piracy
might, of course, be used by socialists as part of their
indictment of the capitalist system. But to our minds
it tells far more strongly against socialism than against
* Le Bon, " Psychology of Socialism."
VOL. II — 16
242 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
capitalism. For if these things could happen under
our present system where every man is moved by his
own interest, and for the protection of his own posses-
sions to keep a watchful eye upon all financial, and
particularly large-scale financial operations, how much
more easily will they occur where no man is owner of
capital in circulation, where the public resources are
all in the hands of intermediaries, where a formless and
indeterminate and, therefore, voiceless public, is the
only body with rights to defend, and where that public
is at the entire mercy of a few clever " operators "
manipulating the whole business of the country at
their will.
Our position, therefore, may here be once more re-
viewed. In reducing, in accordance with the un-
questiofiahle necessities of the case, the national income
so as to determine the amount which would be really
available for distribution under socialism, we reached
a point at which we found that not only the upper and
middle classes, but the whole body of skilled workers
also, should lose by the substitution of socialism for
private capitalism. A further necessary reduction
brought us to the point at which even the unskilled
labourers, the incompetents and the casuals ceased to
be gainers, and in all probability suffered loss by the
introduction of the socialist system. The reasoning
contained in the last few paragraphs only serves to-
emphasise and to increase the certainty of all-round
lose under the eocialist rigimc, a loss enormous in the
case of the present payers of income tax, substantial
and most serious in the case of the class of skilled work-
men all over the land.
But all these considerations assume a character of
secondary importance only, when compared with that
which is now to follow, that, viz. of the necessity of
incentives to industrial progress, and their almost com-
plete absence in the socialist State. The incentives to
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 243
labour are in the industrial world what the maintenance
of high pressure is in an industrial machine. Any
slackening in one, like diminution in the other, renders
every other advantage and perfection of the system
useless. Without a high degree of pressure, constantly
and fully maintained, the most perfectly constructed
engine in the world will fail to do its work. An in-
dustrial system without strong incentives to hard and
unremitting labour on the part of all engaged in it
must soon lose in power and life, and the consequent
losses in income will as far exceed those which we have
already been considering in connection with socialism
in the present chapter, as want of steam in a steam
engine exceeds in importance all minor defects occurring
in the action of the parts. We propose to introduce
this most important argument in a manner which may
at first sight appear unnecessarily roundabout and
indirect.
The considerations set forth in the present chapter
as to the deductions that will have to be made from
the national income before distribution of it can occur
in the socialist State are as a rule almost completely,
in some cases completely, ignored in socialist estimates
of the probable income of workmen under the socialist
regime. But there is one socialist writer, the ablest
perhaps of the whole school, who has given full weight
to the facts narrated in our argument, and his com-
ment on them is exceedingly interesting and will help
to introduce us to our final argument based on the
absence of incentives to labour in the socialist State.
Having enumerated several headings under which re-
ductions will have to be effected in the national income
before distribution can be begun, and the enumeration
is by no means adequate or exhaustive, Karl Kautsky*
goes on to write : " Thus we see that not much will
remain for the raising of the wages from the present
income of the capitalists, even if capital were confiscated
* " The Morrow of the Social Revolution," p. i8.
244 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
at a stroke, still less if we were to compensate the
capitalists." How then does he propose to make up for
this disappointing fall under socialism in the available
income of the nation ? By intenser effort on the part
of those entrusted with the task of production. " It
will consequently be necessary," he writes, " in order to
be able to raise the wages, to raise at the same time the
production far above its present level. Not only the
maintenance of the production, but also its increase,
will constitute one of the most urgent problems of the
social revolution. The victorious proletariat must speed
up production as fast as possible if it is to meet the
enormous demands which the new regime will be called
upon to satisfy." Let us examine this last and most
instructive device of the chief amongst modem socialist
thinkers for restoring to the present level the divisible
income of the country, which, under socialism, so man}-
causes will combine to lower.
It should be clear to any thinking man that to speed
up industry, in the sense of merely speeding up pro-
duction, would only constitute a new source of embarrass-
ment and loss in the socialist State. The speeding up
of production would of a certainty plunge the nation in
bankruptcy unless everything else in the industrial
system were speeded up in proportion, unless receipts
and profits are " speeded " up to the level of the in-
creased production, unless there is (if we may be allowed
to use the word in such a connection) speeding up of
management, and direction, and saving power, and
assiduous watching of old markets and creating of new
markets, so that commodities as they are successively
produced may not be left on the producer's hands,
unless, in a word, every man in the nation, director,
shop-keeper, salesman, workman, is speeded up to put
forth not temporarily, but permanently and systematic-
ally, the best that is in him for the successful accom-
plishment of his allotted task. Are the conditions of
socialist industry the conditions required for such
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 245
effort and such care ? A full answer to this question
would necessitate some examination of the incentives
that now are operative in those three departments of
industrial activity on which the systematic develop-
ment of industry admittedly depends, viz. invention,
direction or administration, and labour. It would be
easy to show that for invention the incentive of an
exceptionally great reward is generally required. In
modern times there is very little room left for sudden
and startling inventions such as have created great
reputations in the past. In modern industry progress
is secured by the continued appearance of small inter-
related inventions which though insignificant in them-
selves are yet mighty in their cumulative effects. More-
over these inventions are not the creation of a single
illuminating moment but depend on the laborious efforts
and the patient trial of many difficult and unpromising
years. It is only the hope of exceptional reward that
could sustain the spirit of an inventor through these
years of trial, and this the programme of socialism
essentially excludes. Again, there is the heading of
labour : that workman has but little incentive to
labour, who knows that the amount of the national
income, and therefore that the amount of dividend
which each (he himself included) is to receive, depends
hardly at all on his owii efforts which he can control,
but on the combined efforts, idleness, knavery, and
waste, which he cannot control, of ten million others,
honest men and shirkers all thrown into one, who, as
we have seen, will under socialism produce and there-
fore determine the amount of the national income.
At present, however, we are compelled to confine our
attention to one of the three departments mentioned,
ithat, viz. of direction or administration, on which, more
than on any other, success in business and industry
depends, and which, as we shall now show, cannot but
be adversely affected by the elimination of private
246 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
socialism of the owner's rights to the profits, and of his
responsibihties for the losses occurring in business.
The creation and administration of great industries is
the work of prolonged, heavy, uninspiring, and often dis-
spiriting effort, such as is not undertaken by men except
with the hope of exceptional reward. Businesses, if they
are to be lucrative, cannot be opened without much
previous laborious enquiry as to the possibilities of the
market. A business opened without such enquiry may
be regarded, in nearly every case, as a failure from the
start. At present the watchful eyes of thousands of
keen business men are open for every movement of the
market, and capitalists are always ready to launch out
into business at the right moment and in the right way.
Any slackening in such watchfulness would mean the
beginning of the end of all industrial progress. Then
when an industry has been successfully set upon its
course, the thousand and one difficulties of administra-
tion and direction arise ; the thankless and continuous
work of controlling men, the hard dry work of fitting
prices to cost of production, or cost of production to
expected prices, the opening out of new markets for
wares produced, the long office hours, the many sleepless
nights, the prolonged anxiety entailed when difficulties
arise — these are the things, unseen by the public, on
which seventy per cent, of the chances of success depend
in the case of most concerns, and without such watchful
and continued effort and pressure no industry or under-
taking could really succeed. We must remember also
that in most undertakings the margin of profit is small
and that it is only by the most assiduous attention to
detail that seventy per cent, of our businesses can keep
afloat.*
Now, under socialism the conditions will not be such
as are likely to secure either energy or care in the ad-
ministration of these great concerns. A maximum of
energy can only be secured where either the net profits
• Sec Lcroy-Bcaulicu, " Lc Collcctivismc," p. 289.
i
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 247
all accrue or very exceptional rewards are promised to
those individuals who have the chief conduct of a
business. A maximum of care and of frugality is to be
expected only where the same individuals that control
the concern must bear all or a great part of the losses
that occur. Under socialism, on the other hand, the men
whose duty it will be to direct and conduct the various
commercial undertakings of the nation will neither
receive the profits nor be charged with the losses, and,
therefore, the same watchful assiduity that is normally
bestowed upon the direction of capitalist undertakings
is not to be expected under socialist management.
These facts being explained we may briefly sum up
our position. We saw that before the national income
could be made available for distribution under socialism
many deductions had to be made. Some of these were
necessary from the very nature of commerce itself ;
others were based on certain inherent weaknesses in
human nature. Their combined effect was to bring
down the available sum to such a low level that not
only the rich must be impoverished, but even the skilled
artisans must lose heavily by the elimination of capitalism,
and that even the unskilled would either gain very little
or lose some portion of their present meagre income.
There still remained the question of incentives. In the
past, industry has progressed by leaps and bounds
under the operation of one great incentive, the hope of
personal gain. With that incentive gone, all that
watchful care and effort at the thousand different centres
of production and administration which alone could
render production a source of profit to the nation will
have departed, and so the wheels of commerce must
slow down, or if they be speeded up, as Kautsky sug-
gests, in the single department of production, they will
be speeded up unto destruction. Under socialism, then,
we can anticipate no other future for the vast mass of
the nation, including even the great artisan class to
whom the appeals of socialists are now especially
248 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
addressed, than that of misery and utter financial failure.
One class will certainly profit by the change, and, it
seems to us, only one class, namely, the class of director-
functionaries in whose hands the financial resources and
the fate of the nation will ultimately lie. These will
be the new exploiters of labour, bolder, more selfish,
and craftier than the most unscrupulous capitalist of
olden days, and there will be no government to check
them in their delinquencies, because they will them-
selves hold the reins of government in their hands.*
A difflcuity — theory that absolute loss is impossible.
We do not care to bring this chapter to a close without
some reference, however brief, to a certain economic
theory which has gained wide recognition of late amongst
socialists of a particular school, and by means of which
an attempt has been made to undermine the position of
anti-socialist writers in so far as they touch on economic
theory. The chief economic argument of anti-socialist
writers, and the argument that has been given most
prominence in this work, is an argument based on the
supposition of losses occurring under socialist adminis-
* The socialists have, of course, their incentives, but from what
we have said it should be evident that these incentives are not likely
to operate either energetically or continuously on any of the three
classes of men considered in our text. They speak, for instance, of
the " joy of creative work." Now attached to invention in even a
minor degree such joy is possible, but there is no joy in administrative
work or labour such as we have described. Then there is the " glory
and the distinction " of great achievements. We answer there is
very little glory either about making ends meet, or about the con-
tinued hard labour of the poor. Then finally there is " sympathy
with our fellow men," a virtue which does, indeed, often induce men
who have no dependence on others to help them in various ways,
but which is not likely to be operative when a man knows that his
own work in order to be effective depends on the work of others, and
particularly when .so many of those others are obviously slackers and
wastrels. The socialist incentives are incentives to poets and dreamers
only, not to an unimaginative business world. If socialism is to
induce men to put forth the best that is in them there must be differen-
tiation in remuneration, and this will lead to the establishment once
more of economic inccjualily and of a leisured class, and in time to
the return of the old regime.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 249
tration, due chiefly to the absence of effective incentives
to labour. Now on the socialist side it has recently-
been maintained that these supposed losses are quite
imaginary and even impossible, and that the capitalist
appeal to them is due to a confusion of thought as to
the relation between capitalistic and socialist con-
ditions. Financial losses, it is explained, are possible
under capitalistic conditions of ownership, but they are
impossible in a system of public or socialist ownership
and administration, and, therefore, the capitalist's
argument, which is based on the possibility of such
losses occurring, is without foundation.
In the development of this argument it is pointed
out that even under capitalism there is no such thing
as absolute loss, or absolute destruction of wealth, that
losses may occur to certain individuals but that other
individuals must in every case gain what the former
lose. Thus if a man wastes his substance drinking
champagne, he personally loses what he spends in
drinking, but the champagne manufacturer gains to a
corresponding extent. There is no absolute loss in
the case. Now under socialism it is pointed out, all
capital, i.e. the capital of each countr}^ will belong to
a single owner, the State, and, therefore, all the depart-
ments of business will belong to the same owner, and
since loss * in one department is always compensated
for by gain in another, it follows, the socialists tell us,
that under socialism, no loss of any kind can ultimately
be sustained by the State or the community. It would
seem, therefore, that a great part of our argument,
which is based on the supposition of losses occurring,
is without foundation.
This argument, it will be readily admitted, is of the
highest importance in connection with the economics
I of socialism and, therefore, it will be necessary to say
something in reply to it. Let us for clearness' sake
consider a very simple concrete case of purchase. A
* i.e. loss through business failures.
i
250 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
particular individual buys machinery from another
individual. He also buys the raw materials of a building
— bricks, mortar, timber, etc., and for the whole he
pays a sum of £2,000. After a time the venture fails.
Production ceases ; employees are dismissed ; the
machines lie idle, rust, and become useless ; the buildings
fall into disrepair. What now is the amount of wealth
available after this event in comparison with what
preceded, and what, therefore, is the loss that has been
sustained ? Before the event there existed two thousand
pounds and also valuable buildings or the materials
for them, and valuable machinery. Now after the
€vent there is in existence only the sum of two thousand
pounds which has been paid to the original seller. The
world, in other words, is poorer by a sum equal not
merely to the plant which has been lost but to the profit
that might have been made out of it had the under-
taking been successful. The materials still remain of
course ; but they are useless and valueless except as
scrap. Their value is like that of a dead man com-
pared to a living. A living productive business has
been lost, not merely to one individual or group of in-
dividuals, but to the whole world. It has been lost
wholly and absolutely.
What, then, is the essential and central fallacy of this
specious objection ? The fallacy is this — it represents
the wealth of the nation as consisting wholly in the
money that passes between one set of hands and another
when purchases are effected. That money, no doubt, is
saved whether failure subsequently occurs or does not ;
but what a small fraction such money represents of
the total wealth possessed in any country it is hardly
ncccs.sary to point out. If the only capital which
England possessed was the money which changes hands
in purchase, England would be a very poor country
indeed. The total wealth of the United Kingdom stands
at about thirteen thousand millions.* At the end of
• Webb, op. cit. p. 81.
WAGES AND SOCIALIST INCOMES 251
1907 the stock of money in the United Kingdom, made
up of gold, silver, and uncovered paper, amounted to
something short of i66| millions.* In what then does
the wealth of England consist ? It consists, of course,
in all the things of value possessed by the nation. But
for the most part it consists in things wholly distinct
from money, in such things as warehouses, canals,
railways, mines, factories, the land. These are the
living sources of profit from which England's wealth is
in the main derived. And where a failure occurs most
of these things can be lost absolutely to the nation.
It may be said, of course, that the socialist State
would not permit the total disappearance even of a
failing or unprofitable industry, that the State would
draw money from other departments in order to keep
each unprofitable department going. Our reply is, that
it is precisely in that fact that is to be found the most
terrible and unavoidable danger to commerce and
industry under socialist control. Under capitalism if
an industry ceases to be profitable it perforce disap-
pears, the only loser in the case being the capitalist who
owned the particular industrial concern. Under social-
ism good money will be thrown after bad, more and
more money will be poured into unprofitable under-
takings, sometimes in order to keep up employment,
sometimes to hide the delinquencies or inefficiency of
officials. Should such bolstering up of broken businesses
be attempted generally or on a large scale the only
result possible is that of speedy and irretrievable bank-
ruptcy. In a perfect system of reservoirs where each
department communicates with every other you do
not, if everything is in perfect order, lower the level of
the water in the system by pouring water from one
reservoir into another. But if water is poured from
one reservoir into another in order to make up for
leakage in that other, sooner or later the whole system
twill be repleted. It will be the same, with the single
* Webb, op. cit. p. 416.
252 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
unified system of industry in which all present businesses
are to be amalgamated in the socialist era. To support
one failing department at the expense of the rest will
mean the gradual depletion of the whole system. Thus
the present difficulty only serves to strengthen our
case against socialist finance. Under socialism an all-
round uniform level of income may, indeed, be attained.
But it will be a level of all-round poverty not of riches.
To divide up wealth you must first make it, and under
socialism the conditions are not such as to favour its
plentiful production.
CHAPTER VIII
REMAINING DEFECTS— SUMMARY OF CASE
AGAINST SOCIALISM
In Chapters V and VI we considered the Marxian argu-
ments against private capitalism. Chapter VII, although
still occupied with the consideration of Marx's argu-
ments, explained a very grave positive defect in socialism,
viz. that under socialism the incomes of all classes in
the community, even the artisan class, would necessarily
undergo considerable shrinkage, due chiefly to the
disappearance of the capitalist incentives to hard and
unremitting effort not only on the part of workmen,
but also, and more particularly, on the part of the
socialist directors of labour. In the present chapter,
before attempting to draw our general conclusion in
regard to the socialist position, we purpose continuing
the positive refutation of socialism which we began in
the preceding chapter, by showing, that not only will
socialism, as has already appeared, involve heavy
financial loss to the whole community, but also that
socialism is inferior to capitalism as a means for securing
that end which it is the chief aim of socialism, as, in-
deed, of every other economic system, to promote,
viz. the satisfaction and contentment of society.
In order to make our position on this point clear it
is necessary to preface our argument with a distinction,
the meaning of which will easily be understood by all.
Economically considered, the public may be viewed
under two aspects. All men are either sellers or buyers
— either producers or consumers, using these words in
a broad sense. In the first place all men are supposed
to follow some avocation in life through which humanity
is benefited in some way — some are doctors, some lawyers.
254 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
some shop-keepers, some labourers, some farmers, some
statesmen. All these confer utilities on others, and in
that broad sense we may speak of them as sellers
or producers. Again, the public are buyers or con-
sumers in as much as they receive the benefits provided
by the others, medical attention from doctors, legal
advice from lawyers, boots and shoes and other neces-
saries from manufacturers. This broad distinction will
be found to cover roughly the whole field of the economic
life of any country, and it will help us to show on broad
lines, but yet with some degree of completeness, how
little calculated socialism is, in comparison with our
present system, to provide the conditions necessary for
human happiness, for social contentment, which, as we
have already said, it is the chief and admitted purpose
of socialism to promote.
I. The public as workers, sellers, or producers.
We shall first consider the public as workers or pro-
ducers, i.e. in their capacity as doctors, lawyers, shop-
keepers, manufacturers, labourers. Speaking generally,
we may truly say that under the capitalist system each
man makes free choice of his avocation in life, of his
position, therefore, in the world as worker or producer.
The range of pursuits open to many men is, of course,
limited in a number of ways. Not all men have money
enough to enter a profession, for instance ; and of pro-
fessional men only the best competitors can reach the
highest places. But all men exercise some choice in
determining the line of life which they will follow,
and the area of free choice is gradually widening more
and more as better educational facilities are provided
for the masses.
Now, socialist writers, whilst they bestow very little
attention on this very real and unquestionable ad-
vantage of the capitalist system, viz. that men are left
free to direct their own lives as they think best, make
frequent allusion to the limitations which, in practice,
REMAINING DEFECTS 255
fortune and the mere accident of birth place on the
theoretical freedom of individuals under the capitalist
system. The poor man's son, they tell us, is, in
practically all cases, forced to become a mechanic or
labourer ; the rich man's son goes to a university and
becomes a doctor, an engineer, or a statesman, and
on this point they build their general contention that
capitalism is opposed to freedom and initiative, especially
among the poorer classes.
Now we have already admitted that under capitalism
a man's power to control his own career is subject to
many and grave limitations, and all we have claimed is
that under our present system the individual is largely
free in the choice of a line of life. But what is the
system by which socialists purpose to replace the con-
ditions of the old regime ? Under socialism it is the
government which will decide whether a man shall
become a shop-keeper, farmer, fisherman, or stoker,,
a traveller in Paris, Brussels, or Petrograd, or a clerk
in some grimy office in London. In other words,
whereas under our present system it is the right of
every man to choose his own line of business or pro-
fession, and so to attempt to rise above the accidents
of birth and fortune and to carve out a career for him-
self, under the socialist system a man will have no
right to choose his own career ; on the contrary, he
will be compelled to accept any position that is allotted
to him by the government or by a few public func-
tionaries representing the government, who will, in
the new era, have the right arbitrarily to dispose of
the lives and services of every man in the land without
thought of his wishes, prepossessions, or even of hi&
capacities.* Socialists may differ very widely about
* The few positions that might be allotted by examination are-
not worth considering. It is to be remembered that under socialists
all will have equal opportunities for education. Under these cir-
cumstances any attempt to determine by examination who will be
the ministers, who the farmers, who the shopkeepers, and who the
navvies and sailors would be absurd.
I
256 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
various parts of the socialist programme. But on this
item there is no room for difference. Under sociahsm
the State is to be the universal employer. Every
position in the land will be under the immediate control
of the State, and, therefore, it is the State that will
in the first place appoint men to their various positions,
and that in the second place will be responsible for every
inequalit}^ in the lot of individuals.
A further conclusion also appears. Under capitalism
men are to a great extent content to put up with the
existing inequalities, content with their own lot, because
each man has to a large extent the ordering of his own
life, and is prepared to attribute much of the hardships
of his life to himself or to fortune ; but under socialism
men will not be content with their lot ; on the contrary,
every inequality of position, of labour, of happiness
will be charged up to the government ; and the public
resentment will be all the more bitter because whatever
inequalities occur under socialism occur under a system
which is built on a theory of the equality of all men, a
system which promises equality to all, and bec9.use in
view of these promises men will, under socialism, have
completely given up their right of freely regulating their
own lives, and their right of the fair use of their oppor-
tunities to enrich themselves without injury to other
persons. We should add also that this resulting dis-
content, resentment and disaffection, are bound to
act most unfavourably on industry, since it will be
shared by practically the whole population, and in
particular by the entire body of workmen, on the whole-
hearted exercise of whose energies the successful con-
duct of industry so much depends.*
* Socialists attempt to answer the above argument in a great
variety of ways. They maintain, for instance, that under socialism
present inequalities will disappear ; (a) because inequalities of income
will Ik; no more ; (h) because under socialism the miner or scavenger
will be licld in equal honour with the engineer or statesman ; (c)
because whatever liardships attach to certain kinds of work will be
counteracted by shortening the hours of work in these departments.
To these arguments we reply ; (a) even if inequalities of income
REMAINING DEFECTS 257
II. The public as buy en or consumers.
Under the capitalist system the principle governing
all production is that of the public need. Things are
produced because they are required and as they are
required.* Let any new requirement arise and numbers
of competing capitalists are ready with their money
to produce the required article, at the cheapest price,
and in the form most acceptable to the public. Let it
appear that any corner or crevice of human desire, no
matter how trivial or exacting such desire may be, is
still unsatisfied, and men will be found to risk a great
part of their possessions in order to provide the needed
commodity or pleasure. Thus, under capitalism, pro-
duction is made to keep pace with demand, following it
up persistently in every direction, and, often, by its
insistence and the attractiveness of the wares produced,
even creating fresh demands, and satisfying them as
they arise. And when the required articles have been
produced, they are then circulated with the utmost
expedition and set down at the very doors of buyers,
each producer being anxious to secure the greatest
number of buyers through causing the minimum degree
of trouble and expense to the public. Thus the con-
venience of the public becomes the norm and principle
of production, circulation, and supply generally. The
consumer is the master, the producer is the servant ;
and, since the consumers are the " many," and, since
by the " producer " here we mean chiefly the capitalist
were no more, inequalities of position will certainly remain. The
work of the scavenger must be done as well as the work of the lawyer ;
(fc) the hard lot attaching to the lower positions is not dependent on
the dishonour in which they are held but on their own intrinsic quality.
Most men would consider that there is only one way to compensate
for the difficulty and disagreeableness of certain kinds of work, viz.
by giving an exceptional reward in money. But such exceptional
rewards are excluded by the essential principles of socialism ; (c) it is
the people who occupy the most favourable places who will be in the
best position for securing the shortest hours. Who, for instance, is
to make the farmer, the traveller, the statesman, or the medical
doctor adhere to any prescribed number of hours ?
* This holds true even though the object ultimately aimed at is
(e profit of the producer.
258 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
(for the wage-earner has nothing to do with determining
what is to be produced — he will produce anything he
is paid for producing and runs no risk in regard to it)
it follows that under capitalism " the many " are the
masters of production and supply, and that "the few"
are the servants ministering to the wants of " the many."
The capitalist system is thus pre-eminently adapted for
the securing of the public good — the good of the many.
No doubt, monopolies often succeed under capitalism
in capturing a particular department of trade, and then
the monopolist becomes the master, playing on the
peoples' needs, and demanding what price he likes from
buyers. But monopolies can be restrained and even
suppressed altogether if the people wish. They are
tolerated only in so far as they are a benefit on the
whole, and as long as they do not try the public too
hardly. Monopolies are no necessary part of capitalism
and, therefore, capitalism should not be judged by the
defects of monopolist trade. There is only one inherent
and unavoidable principle in the capitalist system, that,
viz. of free competition, and under the system of free
competition, as we have seen, commerce is ruled by
and directed, in effect, to the satisfying of the public
interest and requirements.
What now is the socialist substitute for the system
of production and distribution which capitalism has
maintained and so successfully developed during the
last two hundred years ? It is certain that under
socialism the public requirements will not be the sole
or the chief principle governing production and dis-
tribution. The socialist State is of its nature monopolist.
Under socialism there will be but one producer, supplier,,
and distributor, viz. the State. SociaHsm may take a
highly centralised form or it may be of a federal type„
i.e. it may concentrate all production and distribution
in one set of hands, or it may make each district re-
Bponsible for meeting the requirements of the inhabitants
of that district. But whatever the system of manage-
I
REMAINING DEFECTS 259
ment adopted it is certain that under socialism there
will be but one ultimate owner, the State, and, therefore,
competition will cease with the disappearance of private
capitalism. Under socialism, then, there will be no
necessity to bring down prices to the lowest level con-
sonant with profit, to produce the most finished article
at the lowest price, to deliver it with the minimum of
trouble to the buyer, i.e. the public, in order to secure
the public favour. The public custom or favour need
not be striven for in a system where there is only one
producer and one seller.*
Under socialism, therefore, the public wants will not
be met in the same complete or progressive way as
under the system of private capitalism.!
* For another reason also the convenience of the public will not
be met under the socialist as under our present system, viz. that
under socialism the best men will not be secured for those higher
positions through which the gravest public interests are provided for
and regulated. Why should any man undertake to face all the
trouble, the study, the patient self-denial that are required to fit him
for such positions if at the end he can only look forward to an income
no greater or very little greater than that of the least efficient member
of the community.
t A difficulty suggested by the argument in our text is the follow-
ing : since the public under socialism will be the masters, may they
not dismiss any official whose work is not up to the required standard ?
In this way may not production be brought up to the fullest require-
ments of the public ?
We answer : First, the public at large will, under socialism, have
no more control over the officials engaged in production than they
now have over the battleships of the nation. Yet the public are now
the owners of those battleships, just as under socialism they will be
owners of the sources of production. Secondly, how are the public
to dismiss those officials whose work is not up to standard ? The
public by itself is not in a position to know what is up to standard
and what is not. It is the producers, the suppliers, that set the
standard. The high standard of comfort that obtains to-day in
travelling accommodation or the lighting of houses is due not to the
public but to producers and distributors in competition with one
another. Without such competition the public would not know of
most of the existing comforts. Under socialism, therefore, the
officials in charge of production can keep the standard of comfort
as low as they like, and the public will not be in a position to check
them. As long, of course, as only one or two departments of business
are nationalised, a good standard may be reached as in the case of
the Prussian railways ; but if every kind of business were nationalised,
the standard attained in each would not be high.
26o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The Arguments against Socialism Resumed
Having considered the arguments of the socialists,
and having also in our consideration of these arguments
brought out certain defects of socialism in the preceding
and present chapter, we are now in a position to under-
take a brief statement of our chief reasons for rejecting
the socialist theory.
I. THE FINANCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY OF SOCIALISM
If the system of private capitalism is to be destroyed,
then all justice requires that the existing capitalists
should be compensated fully for the loss of their pro-
perty. Now, making the fullest allowances for past
injustices on the part of capitalists, it is certain that
the justly acquired and justly owned capital of the
United Kingdom cannot amount to less at the present
day than the enormous sum of eight or nine thousand
millions * of pounds ; and, therefore, to the extent of
this enormous sum capitalists must be compensated
before the existing capital can be nationalised. How is
this to be done ? It can be done in either of two ways
only : capitalists can be paid off in coin or they can
be paid in scrip — the latter entitling them to a share in
the national profits equivalent, or nearly so, to what
they have lost through the nationalisation of their
capital. But the first method is impossible, since the
total amount of coin, gold, silver, and copper, in the
United Kingdom does not amount to more than about
£130,000,000. t The second method would leave the
existing capitalists still private capitalists and private
capitalists in the sense most repugnant to socialist
feeling, viz. idle capitalists or men in receipt of unearned
income, and it is against this class in particular that the
♦ i.e. at least 70% of the whole. The capital owned by the State
amounts only to about 450 millions (Ireson, Table H), private capital
to about eleven thousand millions.
t In 1909 it was ;^i27,ooo,ooo. See Webb, op. cit. p. 418.
REMAINING DEFECTS 261
socialists direct their sincerest abuse. In one way only,
then, is it possible to get rid of the system of private
capitalism, viz. by utterly disregarding all principles of
justice, and violently seizing on all private capital,
making no compensation whatever to owners, not even
to those unfortunate artisans who out of their hard
earnings have between them saved money to the amount
of a thousand million pounds,* with the interest from
which they now supplement their only too scanty
incomes.
II. SOCIALISM OPPOSED TO HUMAN WELFARE
In an earlier chapter of this work it was pointed out
that the system of communism or of the common owner-
ship of all -property is opposed to human welfare — that
it is irreconcilable with the good either of the individual,
or of the family, or of the race at large.
Now, the reader will probably have noticed that in
our reasoning about communism the chief examples by
which we attempted to demonstrate the mischievous
effects of the communist sj-stem related not to ordinary
property but to the sources of wealth, to capital, to
those kinds of property the nationalisation of which is
the special feature of the socialist as opposed to the
communist programme.! And the reason why in
treating of communism we could not refrain from intro-
ducing examples that concern the sources of wealth
in particular will easily be understood. We wished to
present the communist theory to our readers in a form
that was possible and conceivable, and not intrinsically
absurd. Now, the proposal to nationalise all ordinary
property such as horses, pictures, tables and chairs,
* Contemporary Review, August, 1907.
t Communism, as already explained, proposes to nationalise all
property, not only ordinary property but also the sources of wealth
or capital. The programme advocated by the socialist is contained
in that of the communist theorists. It relates to capital or the sources
of wealth only.
262 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
books, carpets, etc., is manifestly preposterous and
absurd. By no possible stretch of our imaginations
can we think of all the citizens of the State exercising
ownership over these things either simultaneously or
successively. Of its nature the use and emplojinent of
these things must be confined to one or a few. But it is
easy to imagine the sources of wealth being nationalised.
For nationalisation in the case of the sources means not
that the land, the mines, the machinery are administered
by all, but that the fruits of them are sold and the pro-
ceeds divided equally among all, and in that concep-
tion there is nothing intrinsically impossible. It was
necessar}^ therefore, if communism was to be repre-
sented as a serious theory and not to stand as self-
condemned from the beginning, to give prominence to
that portion of the communist programme which relates
to the nationalisation of the sources of wealth, such as
the land, warehouses and machinery — a consideration
which seems also to have weighed with Aristotle who in
his famous criticism of the communist theory lays stress
on that portion of it in which it is really identical with
modern socialism, viz. its proposal to nationalise the
land, the rest being disregarded by him as obviously
impossible and not seriously intended by his opponents.
From all this it will be evident that the case which
has already been made out against the communist
theory holds also almost in its entirety against socialism.
The arguments already given were based on the evils
attending the nationalisation of the sources of produc-
tion, just as well as on the evils attending the national-
isation of ordinary property. And, therefore, there is
hardly one of those arguments that went to make up
our case against communism that does not also serve to
show how wide and insuperable is the opposition between
the socialist proposals also and the welfare of the
individual, the family, and the race. It is necessary,
however, in giving our final judgment on socialism, to
recapitulate at least the chief of those arguments, and
REMAINING DEFECTS 263
formally and expressly to show their bearing on the
theory of socialism.
Now in order to understand the true effect of adopting
the socialist programme it is necessary to remember
that socialism is riot a proposal to introduce into our
present economic system some new and improving
feature which would, whilst leaving that S3'stem sub-
stantially intact, so alter it as to eliminate most, or all
of its defects. Socialism is a proposal to abolish the
whole system of private ownership in capital, our whole
present economic structure. Let us see what this
really means. Private ownership in capital is now
thousands of years in possession. A vast and complex
edifice of human rights has been reared upon this
foundation. To abolish private ownership in capital, as
socialism proposes, would be to bring the whole existent
edifice of human rights to the ground, and to per-
petrate the gravest injustice, not only against present
owners of capital, but against innumerable other persons
also.
Moreover, the principle of private ownership in capital
is a principle that has worked out well for the human
race. The structure raised on it is sound and good in
the main. Our proof is that under this system the
world has made enormous progress, not in one, but in
every department of human activity, and its progress
has been phenomenal in that very sphere to which the
socialist proposals essentially relate, viz. the economic
sphere. But a principle that was naturally and in-
trinsically vicious would not allow of progress, per-
manent and phenomenal progress, in that particular
sphere. It would sooner or later bring forth the natural
and proper fruit of all evil and corrupt principles — not
economic disease merely, but economic destruction.
Evils have grown up in connection with our present
system. They will appear under every system, whether
devised by human reason or prescribed by nature, for
€vil is irremovable from human life. But there is no
264 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
evil element in our present economic system for which a
remedy cannot be discovered by human reason, a remedy
which is consonant with the central and essential
principles of our present system. If a large number
of men happen to be poor, their poverty can by govern-
mental intervention be removed — if necessary, at the
expense of the rich. If they dwell in unsanitary houses
government can build them houses. The evils incident
to the system of private capitalism are removable evils.
They all concern the exercise of what is only a secondary
though most important function of any economic system,
viz. the distribution of wealth. The distribution of
wealth under private capitalism is far from perfect.
What wrongs there are, however, can easily be remedied.
They are fast being remedied even now. But the
primary and essential function of commerce, i.e. the
production of wealth, has been not only successfully but
magnificently performed under the operation of private
capitalism. The wealth of the world is growing at a
phenomenal speed. And all classes are sharing in this
growing wealth. Some, indeed, are getting much more
than they should, which only means that there are dis-
proportions to be removed, adjustments to be made.
But to abolish the whole system for the sake of the
removable evils attendant on it would be like setting
fire to the harvest because some persons get more than
others, or poisoning the water supply of a town because
some houses are fed with larger pipes than others. The
theory that private capitalism ought to be abolished in
its entirety because workmen do not get all that they
have a right to out of the proceeds is a stupid and
illogical theory, and unworthy of reasoning beings.
Under our present system there is no defect that
cannot ultimately be removed.
And this conclusion in regard to the abolition of private
capitalism is strengthened and confirmed when we come
to examine the system by which in the socialist theory
private capitalism is to be replaced. The abolition of
REMAINING DEFECTS 265
private ownership in capital might be regarded as not
antecedently unworthy of our consideration if what was
proposed in place of it was a system offending against
no law of justice, a system that widened enormously
the area of human liberty, that provided conditions for
economic development far better than those of private
capitalism, that guaranteed to the vast majority of the
people, if not to all, an immense increase in their incomes
and the comforts of life. But the promise of socialism
falls very far short of this, and its actual results will be
the very opposite of this. Socialism, as we shall presently
show, violates the most sacred rights of the individual,
suppresses in him all initiative, all sense of freedom,
makes of him an automaton, controlled and directed in
everything by others, and in addition, deprives him of
the just reward of his labour ; socialism violates also
the most sacred rights of the family as regards property,
and so controls the family in its most inner and sacred
relations as to threaten the existence of the family
itself ; finally, socialism, instead of promoting the general
economic welfare, will induce a condition of aU-round
poverty, bringing the incomes of the vast majority of
the people, including even the entire body of workmen,
skilled and unskilled, particularly the former, far below
their present level.
Socialism and the individual interest.
Let us first take the case of the individual interest
and examine just one or two of the chief ways in which
that interest is affected by socialism. The individual
is provided by nature with a capacity for production, a
capacity to turn his money into machinery, to set up
businesses, to conduct them successfully, to turn his
own possessions, be they great or small, into real and
abiding sources of profit. This faculty is a function of
reason only. The animal cannot cultivate the soil,
plant trees, reap a harvest, create a business. It can
266 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
only keep or consume what it gets. To turn what one
possesses into a source of production or profit is the
exclusive prerogative of man. The socialist disallows
and nullifies that prerogative. " You may produce,"
he says, " but only in the interest of, and in the way
directed by, the State. The money you have you may
keep or spend just as you like. But you must not set
up a business with it. You must not create wealth
with it. This creative faculty of yours is not any
longer under ^-our control. You must only use it if
called upon by the State to do so, and then you must
use it in the interest of the State alone, not in your own
interest. Unless called upon by the State to control and
direct a portion of the national property, you may draw
a line through all your creative capacities, no matter
how great and keen and valuable they are, and no
matter how enthusiastic you may be to exercise them.
Under capitalism some men have capacities which
they cannot exercise from want of opportunity. We,
socialists, disallow their exercise whether opportunity
offers or not. The material sources of production, the
quarries, the coal-mines, the oil-wells we shall most
jealously guard and preserve in being. But nature's
chief est source of wealth, the energies and faculties of
man, we shall seal up and render useless for ever, except,
as was said before, in the case of the few on whom under
Bocialism will devolve the special charge of productive
and administrative work." This is the essential and
central article in the programme of the socialist. Social-
ism lays on the will and energies of man fetters more
restrictive and galHng than those of the hardest prisons.
But then there is the injustice to the individual of
the whole proceeding. The old philosopher maintained
that private property was robbery. But socialism is
robbery — robbery of the most flagrant kind. Suppose
that under our present system a man had agricultural
land and that a neighbour prevented him from using
it as such, i.e. from cultivating it and appropriating
REMAINING DEFECTS 267
the fruits, would that not be robbery ? What good to
an owner is a source of wealth if it cannot be used to
produce wealth ? The value of a source of production
is measured in great part by the fruits which it produces,
and to forbid the production of these fruits is to deprive
a man to the extent of these fruits of what is rightly
his. Now the natural energies of the individual are
his own. By the exercise of these energies he is able
to produce machinery and use it as a source of profit.
To prevent him from doing so is to perpetrate an injustice
against him, to deprive him of the fruits of his own
energies and of his property, to rob him to the extent
of those fruits. Of course, it is not robbery in the
technical sense of the word, for the reason that the
fruits of which the individual is deprived are not appro-
priated by others. But the difference is not to the
credit or advantage of socialism. In the case of ordinary
robbery that of which one person is deprived is possessed
and enjoyed by another. But under socialism the
fruits of property are not only denied to their owner
but nobody else is given the advantage of possessing
them — not even the community at large. Under social-
ism they are not produced at all ; the production of
them is forbidden b}^ public law. It is almost the same
difference as that between taking away a quantity of
hay and burning it to the ground, or between robbing
a garden and poisoning the ground so that the fruit
cannot be produced.
Of course, as usual, it is the deserving workman who
is hardest hit by the socialist programme and its pro-
hibitions. Out of his small income the workman often
saves a little and turns that little into productive capital.
These savings are a source of special profit, and much of
the joy of his life arises from the consciousness of that
possession. It is his own. The fruits come into him at
regular periods. No power in the State can deprive
him of his right to them. His property also grows with
time. It can be made to grow to any dimensions with
268 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
care and energy. It renders the possessor independent
to a certain degree of the rest of the world. Socialism^
by depriving the workman of the right to turn his money
into a source of wealth, robs him to the extent of that
wealth and condemns him to perpetual and complete
dependence on others. " The socialists," says Leo XIII^
"... strike at the interest of every wage-earner, for
they deprive him of the liberty of disposing of his wages,
and thus of all hope and possibility of increasing his
stock and of bettering his condition in life." *
Socialism and the family interest.
All this refers to the individual interest. But socialism
strikes also at the happiness and welfare of the family.
We may be allowed here to quote the following passage
from an earlier chapter in which it was shown that
property is necessary for the family welfare : " The man
who summons children into the world assumes responsi-
bility for feeding and educating those children. And
because he has summoned them into life, they have a
right to look to him for all that is required for their
development and perfection. . . . This responsibility
which nature imposes upon the father gives him a right
as well as imposes a duty of gathering together a store
of wealth and gives him a right of property in that
wealth. It is the chief condition of the future security
and well-being of his children." Now, " the children
whom he summons into the world will themselves, in
the natural course of events, found families, and the
father has a right to put them in a secure position for
beginning their married life. In this matter the needs
of children are quite indefinite and indeed unlimited,
and therefore a man may go on storing wealth to the
rnd of liis life and to any amount lliat he desires."
• ] he ohvioiis fjhjcctions that undiT socialistn the workman will
be rich and consccjucntly will feel no need to turn his money into a
source of wealth is answered in the preceding chapter.
REMAINING DEFECTS 269
From the foregoing argument it will be clear that the
right of property, in so far as it is based on the family
welfare, is in its complete form ultimately based on the
permanence of the family — its permanence and con-
tinuation from one generation to another. The right
which the family welfare bestows is a right of storing
up wealth and of passing it on from children to grand-
children, and, if possible, without diminution or destnic-
tion, just as the family life suffers neither diminution
nor destruction as one generation succeeds another.
But property has the attribute of permanence only in
the form of capital or productive wealth. It is only by
turning wealth into productive capital that it becomes
possible to use it and at the same time neither to diminish
nor to destroy it, the fruits which capital produces being
used or consumed, whilst the capital itself from which
those fruits derive remains whole and intact. A right
of property, then, that would exclude its being turned
into productive capital would not only be partial and
incomplete, but would also fail to secure the true welfare
of the family in its capacity as a permanent and con-
tinuous social unit. Such a limited right of property
would satisfy neither the responsibility nor the rights
of the head of the family in regard to his children.
But a much graver injury to the family life than the
economic loss it will sustain through the suppression
of all private capital has also to be considered,
viz. the right which, indirectly, socialism gives the
State of control over the family in its innermost and
most sacred relations. This argument has already
been explained in our consideration of the com-
munist system. But it holds true also of socialism ;
and its further presentation and development here
will serve to emphasise its great importance.
Under the present system the father of the family
undertakes full responsibility for the support of his
children. If the family becomes too large for his re-
270 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
sources he either seeks some more lucrative employ-
ment or tries to supplement his income in other ways,
e.g. by means of a small business. But, whatever may
be the manner in which he tries to augment his income,
the full responsibility for the upkeep of the family
rests with the father alone, and, as a consequence, he
enjoys the full rights of ownership and control over
his own home.
Under socialism the father's position will be very
different. For, under socialism, one kind of work will not
be more lucrative than another, and private businesses
are disallowed. Any additional funds, therefore, that
are required for the support of a man's children can
come only from the State. There is no other source
from which to obtain them. Under socialism the State,
though it will compel every man to work, will neverthe-
less assume the role of universal provider and dispenser,
and, therefore, if additional resources are to be supplied,
it must supply them. And that additional resources
will be required is certain. For, families are not all of
equal dimensions. The father of twelve children cannot
be expected to be content with the same income as that
of a father of two or three, or perhaps no children.
Such a system of distribution of the national income
would be at variance with the law of the equality of
all human beings before the State, a law which is the
pivot of the socialist theory. It would mean providing
support for some children and none for others in a system
which undertakes to provide for all. Under socialism,
therefore, money must be provided by the State for
every family according to the dimensions of the family.
And in this very responsibility assumed by the State
lies the grave danger to which we have referred. There
is an old maxim of great importance in Political Science
to the effect that all responsibility brings with it a pro-
portionate degree of authority. It is a maxim that-
holds for the socialist State as well as for any other,
and, in the present instance, it leads to a startling con-
1
I
REMAINING DEFECTS 271
elusion as to the position of the family in the socialist
State. The man who pays the piper has the right to
call the tune. If the State has to pay according to the
number of children in the family, the State will eventually
see to it that it will be consulted on every condition in
the family life, e.g. as to whether families are to be set
up or not, and in what number, and, most serious of
all, what are to be the dimensions of the family. During
the first years of socialism the State may not care to
put into operation the full rights attaching to its responsi-
bilities in this connection. To do so would be to shock
the sensibilities of the greater portion of mankind. But
sooner or later it will make its full authority felt. And
it will be all the more emboldened to do so from the
absence in the socialist State of all religious restraints,
which it is the declared intention of practically all
socialist propagandists to abolish. The conclusion in
regard to the family life scarcely needs to be drawn.
Socialism must eventually mean the utter suppression
of the family independence and the abolition of the
rights of parents in regard to their children, rights that
are antecedent to, and independent of, the State, and
that are as old as human nature itself. It will also, by
placing limitations on the number of children to be
brought into the world with their right of support from
the State, so restrain the free expansion of the family
as to imperil the existence not only of the family but
of the race itself.*
Socialism and the general interest.
These are intolerable evils, evils that society could
not afford to ignore, no matter how great and good the
* It is claimed by many defenders of socialism that that theory
is purely economic in character, its principle being that capital should
be nationalised, and that, therefore, in its essentials socialism has
nothing whatsoever to do with questions of family organisation, and
would offer no hindrance to the continuance of present family rights.
Our argument in the text will show that there is an intimate con-
nection between socialism considered as a mere economic doctrine-
and the question of the existence and rights of the family.
272 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
purpose aimed at in any system of which they are the
natural consequences, and they afford clear proof that
socialism is not onl}^ dangerous but intrinsically wrong,
that as a State system it could not be justified in any
circumstances.
But for the sake of argument let us here agree to waive
the strict demands of the moral law and consent to give
fair consideration to all the benefits arising from socialism,
agreeing also to ignore the outrages which that system
inflicts on the individual and the family, if its other
benefits, those, viz. accruing to society at large thould
be of an importance commensurate with the grave
violations of justice and morality to which they are
supposed to be a set-off. But here we arrive at a
position the most extraordinary yet attained in the
history of proposals for the reform of human things. In
every reformatory scheme involving loss or damage in
certain directions it is supposed that the benefits in
other directions will be correspondingly great. But in
the case of socialism the opposite is the case. The
rights and liberties of individual and family in all the
most sacred and important relations of human life are
here being sacrificed. In one way only could socialism
hope, and in one way only does it propose to neutralise
or compensate for these invasions of human rights,
viz. by all-round enormous increase in the incomes of
th^ whole or nearly the whole people. But it is here that
the promise of socialism most clearly and disastrously
fails. Taking the conditions of socialism at their very
best, and disregarding the question of the necessity of
incentives, it is clear from our argument in the preceding
chapter that no class will be the gainer financially under
socialism ; on the contrary, the rich and middle classes
will be very much poorer, whilst the loss to the working
population, and particularly the skilled artisans, will be
of the most serious kind. But then, if instead of ignoring
the all-important question of the necessity of incentives
in industry, we take their necessity into account, and
REMAINING DEFECTS 273
also their certain absence under socialism, it becomes
evident that the condition of all-round loss produced
by socialism will be turned into a condition of all-
round inevitable bankruptcy, with what disastrous
consequences to a great but helpless proletariat can
easily be imagined.
It is in connection with this third consideration, that,
viz. of the financial position of the nation at large under
the socialist system, that workmen are most liable to
be misled and deceived ; and their position of complete
dependence on others for instruction in such matters
is fully availed of by the less scrupulous orators and
writers on the socialist side. To the ordinary un-
instructed workman what inference in the domain of
figures could appear more compelling and unanswerable
than this — that if the income of the United Kingdom in
a particular year was 1,750 millions, that income would,
if divided equally between the ten million families that
make up the population, afford £175 a year to every
family ? Now £175 a year is not a huge income for a
family, and skilled workmen are often astonished and
disappointed when they discover that socialism cannot
promise them more than this.* But whatever may be
said about the magnitude of the sum involved, the
reasoning in the calculation just given seems irrefragable.
And yet how elaborate is the suppression of facts which
it involves ! There is no socialist writer who does not
know that the whole income of the nation could not be
divided amongst the people in the socialist State, no
matter how favourable the conditions of industry in
that State. They know, for instance, that at least a
couple of hundred millions a year will then have to be
provided for maintenance and increase of capital out of
the national income as it is now provided by the owners
* That is why the socialist orators so often fail altogether to
mention figures, and content themselves with telling workmen, not
that under socialism such and such a sum will be their income, but
that under socialism they will be the possessors of the huge incomes
now enjoyed exclusively by the millionaire capitalists.
VOL. 11 — 18
274 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of private capital. They know that a very large amount
of what is now regarded as national income could not
be divided under socialism because it represents money
that passes from one pocket to another, and is, there-
fore, counted twice over in estimating the total income
of the nation. If out of the pound that I have in my
pocket I give ten shillings to a doctor we have between
us a sum, not of thirty shillings, but of a pound, and if
our joint possessions came to be divided they would
amount to a sum of a pound only. So also it is clear
that the whole of what is called our present national
income, a sum which is made up by adding the incomes
of all persons together, would not be available for division
in the socialist State. These are only a couple of the
reductions that must first be made in the present incomes
of the country before we are in a position to compute
the sum to be divided under socialism ; other headings
of reduction are given in the previous chapter ; and,
taken together, they bring down the amount of money
available for distribution under the socialist regime to
a sum that must seem very disappointing to any in-
telligent workman who has once allowed himself to
entertain the expectations which it is the business of
the trained socialist to excite in the mind of the poorer
classes. Of all these facts there is no trained socialist
that is not fully aware. But the people hear as a rule
nothing of them. They are assured on the authority
of trusted leaders * that every penny of the present
national income will be theirs to have and to spend under
the new rigime, and that, with the teeming millions of
present day capitalists flowing into the pockets of all,
not only will their old-time enemy class, the rich, be
all brought low, but the present poor will all be raised
with delightful suddenness, as if by the touch of some
magic wand, into the position of rich and independent
men. How different arc the actual facts of the case.
Let even the whole present national income be divided
* Or at least the insinuation is freely made.
REMAINING DEFECTS 275
equally, and, as we said, the present position of the
skilled workmen would hardly be improved. Let only
some of the more necessary and unavoidable reductions
be made, and the incomes of the skilled workmens'
families and of all above them will be lower than now.
Let all the items of reduction be taken into account,
and also the effect of removing the present incentives,
and only one conclusion becomes possible as regards
the future of workmen, skilled and unskilled, and of
the whole nation under the socialist regime. Their
future will be one of all-round poverty and wretched-
ness, and there will be no remedy to alter, or power
to lift them out of their ill condition.
This, then, is what the alluring promise of socialism
is found to amount to when examined in the light of
clear and indubitable fact — the certain violation of
every essential right of the individual, violation of the
most sacred family rights, bankruptcy to the race in
the financial sphere, and, we may add, from our reasoning
at the beginning of the present chapter, discontent and
cofifusion in every social relation. Is it too much to
conclude that socialism is not a system making for
human welfare, and that the socialist programme to
abolish all private capital is not desirable in the interest
of the individual, the family, or the State ?
The Limits of Lawful Nationalisation — or How
Far may Capital be Owned by the State ?
The preceding discussion relates to the socialist pro-
gramme pure and simple, viz. the nationalising of all
capital, or of all the sources of profit, of whatever kind.
That programme we have shown to be morally evil as
violating strict rights of justice, and as adverse to the
welfare of the individual, the family, and the State.
But it is evident that though the abolition of all private
capital, or the nationalising of all capital is wrong, the
276 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
nationalising of some part of the capital of a country
is not wrong ; on the contrary, there is no country in
which the public ownership of capital does not obtain
to some degree, and no one thinks of accusing these
owning states of injustice or wrong of any kind. The
State in Germany, for instance, has its public lands,
its forests, its railways ; France has a monopoly in
the production of matches.
The interesting question, therefore, arises, where is
the dividing line to be drawn between what is allowable
and what is wrong in the nationalisation of capital ;
or, how far may a State proceed in the nationalising of
capital without injustice to its subjects ? And though
no very detailed or exact answer is possible to this
question, still it is possible to lay down some general
principles which will be of use to the moralist in de-
termining, in particular cases, the point at which
nationaUsation becomes morally questionable or is
definitely wrong.
(i) Our first general principle is that any attempt on
the part of the State to nationalise even any one busirfess
or industry is wrong, if it is meant to lead up to the
complete overthrow of private capitalism, and to the
final establishment of socialism. If any end is bad and
forbidden, then any step, no matter how insignificant
or remote, which is meant to lead to the accomplishment
of that end, is also bad and forbidden. For the remainder
of this discussion, however, we shall abstract altogether
from the question of the presence of any such ulterior
aim, and shall suppose that each step in the process
of nationalisation stands alone, and occurs just as con-
venience requires and for its own sake only.
(2) That the State can own capital of various kinds
is as indisputable as that any group of private individuals
can own capital. The State is a moral person, much
more so than a private group of owners, and if the latter
may lawfully own capital, the same right is not to be
denied to the State.
REMAINING DEFECTS
277
(3) The State has a right even to create a monopoly
in certain industries or lines of business, like the match
industry in France and the railways in Germany, but
only for very grave reasons, and only after full compensa-
tion has been made to existing owners. There is all the
difference in the world between monopolies owned by
private individuals and monopolies set up by the State.
The private individual or company which establishes
a monopoly succeeds in doing so, not by forbidding a
particular line of business to others,* but as a result of
open competition and by utilising the lawful expedients
which competition brings into play ; and supposing
that only lawful expedients are utilised, a private com-
pany has quite as good a right to acquire a monopoly
in open competition with others, as an individual has
to win a race or to secure a prize by examination. But,
on the other hand, when the State contemplates setting
up a monopoly in any line of business, it forbids all others
from entering that line of business, and thus effects a
serious encroachment on the liberty of the subject. Such
encroachment can only be justified by very grave
reasons of public policy and necessity.
We shall here attempt to give some instances of the
kind of reason that would be sufficient to justify the
State in setting up a government monopoly, f The
State might effect a monopoly in any line of business.
State control of which is necessary for the public safety,
e.g. the manufacture of firearms. Again, where a business
is necessary for the public welfare, and where exploita-
tion of the public by a private company would be
most injurious to that welfare, nationalisation is justi-
fiable. For this reason it is lawful under certain con-
* Some private monopolies receive protection from government,
that is, others are not allowed to set up competing firms. Such pro-
tection should only be given for grave reasons, e.g. because otherwise
no capitalists would be willing to undertake the risks of competition
connected with some business of grave public importance.
t See " The Prevention and Control of Monopolies," by W. J.
Brown, ch. viii.
278 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
ditions to nationalise the means of transit, such as
railways. Again, it is lawful to nationalise and set up
a government monopoly in a business which vitally
affects the health of the nation, such as the milk supply,
provided, of course, that there is genuine danger in
leaving it in private hands. Nationalisation is also
sometimes necessary in order to prevent " a threatened
depletion of the national resources." To leave the coal-
mines in private hands might in certain cases be full of
danger for the community. A frequent cause of nation-
alisation and monopoly is found in the fact that the
State has had to start some very necessary business
for which private capital could not be obtained and
for which protection is absolutely required if it is to be
kept alive. The State often affords similar protection
to individual enterprises when, without such protection,
the business in question would not be started ; and
what it can do for the property of private individuals
it can certainly do for its own property. Finally, a
national monopoly in some lines of business might be
necessary as a source of revenue and to avoid additional
taxation, or even on account of the difficulty of collect-
ing the taxes in privately owned concerns.
In any of these cases the State might be justified in
creating a monopoly in some particular line or lines of
business. But a grave reason is required in every case.
(4) But now the question arises as to the limits of
lawful State monopoly. That the universal nationalisa-
tion of capital, i.e. socialism, is unlawful has already
been established in the present chapter. But the
reasons why it is lawful are here of great importance
since they help us to define the limits to which the
nationalisation of capital may lawfully be carried. For
purposes of our present discussion these reasons may
be said to reduce to two, first, the injustice done to
the individual and the family in suppressing the indi-
vidual right of initiative in the use of his money ;
secondly, the grave financial loss sustained by the
REMAINING DEFECTS 279
community at large through the suppression of private
initiative. Both reasons evidently lead to the one
conclusion — every man in the land ought to have full
opportunity for turning his money into capital or a
source of profit ; and, arguing from this as premiss,
it is possible to state in general terms the limits of
rightful State monopoly. To a very large extent State
monopolies may be set up in any country without really
affecting a person's right of private enterprise and
investment. For the one line of business which the
State has appropriated, a thousand other lines will
generally remain open, in which private persons may
invest their savings. But if State nationalisation should
reach a point where the pressure of State restriction begins
to he felt hy private persons, so that it can no longer he said
that these persons have ample and full opportunity for
private enterprise and investment, or if such a point has
even heen definitely approached so that there is danger to
the private person's right of free enterprise and invest-
ment, then the State has already passed the limits of lawful
monopoly. Also, if there be anything which is of such
fundamental importance to the economic life of the com-
munity that to nationalise it would give the State a kind of
modified ownership over all wealth, gravely hamper the
freedom of private owners in every department of commerce,
and so introduce conditions almost equivalent to those of
socialism, then nationalisation in such a case would seem
to be forbidden as imperilling the liberty and welfare of
the community.*
* We naturally think of the land in this connection. So many,
however, and difficult are the questions connected with land nationali-
sation that we have reserved our consideration of it for the
appendix now to follow.
28o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
APPENDIX A
The Nationalisation of the Land
The various systems of private ownership.
By ownership of the land, Hke ownership of any other
thing, is meant the right of possession, control, and use.
Private ownership means the right of control and use by
private persons.
In the case of land various systems of private ownership
may be distinguished. There is first the system of peasant
proprietorship under which the cultivator is sole owner.
Then there is the system of dual private ownership where a
private landlord supplies the capital for working the land,
whilst the farmer raises the crops.* It is possible also to
distinguish a third system of ownership, i.e. modified private
ownership, such as exists in Australia where the State, though
exercising a certain right of ownership entitling it to a rental
from the land, yet gives to the cultivator full actual owner-
ship, bestowing upon him security of tenure, and the full
right to use the land as he likes, and to appropriate the
fruits, f
The view which is advocated in the following, pages is the
view that some kind of private ownership is necessary ;
and the only theory that is here opposed is the theory
that the land should be subject to common ownership ex-
clusively, that there should be no such thing as private
ownership in land. From the discussion to follow it will be
evident to the reader that as between the various systems
of private ownership our preference lies with that of simple
peasant proprietorship. Speaking generally, this is the
system that is most productive in good results, but there
are cases where the system of dual private ownership is
* There is another system of dual ownership possible, which though
not intrinsically wrong is yet so bad in its results that nobody would
advocate it under any circumstances, viz. the system in which a land-
lord simply draws a rent from the ifarmer and docs nothing for the
land. It is not intrinsically wrong because, granted that a man is
really owner of the land, he may by special contract lease out the land
to another for a certain rental, relieving himself of all responsibility
in regard to it. The defects, however, of such a system are too obvious
to require enumeration,
t The worst feature of this system as compared with the system
of dual private ownership is that, whereas a private landlord can
spend money on the soil m improvement, the State cannot or ought
not : to do so would mean spending public money in the interest of
a private individual instead of in the public interest.
REMAINING DEFECTS 281
better, viz. where a large amount of capital is required to
effect the necessary improvements, and the cultivator is
not possessed of this capital. However, this discussion
is not a discussion on the relative merits of the different
systems of private ownership, but on the system of private
ownership itself as opposed to public ownership, and our
sole purpose is to show that private ownership of some
kind is necessary in the public interest.
Whether the land can be privately owned.
As a rule.^ the theory of common ownership of the soil is
made to depend on the principle that what a private individual
has not produced he cannot own. But this principle has
already been disproved in an earlier chapter of the present
work. Labour or production, we saw, is not the only or
even the chief title of ownership. If it were the only title,
then there is nothing that could be privately owned, for in
everything that is produced by human labour there is always
something that is not produced, i.e. the material out of
which the thing is made, and unless this first becomes
private property no part or quality of the object could
ever be owned. And what is true of all other kinds of pro-
perty is true also of the land. The land is produced in the
same way that all other things are produced, viz. modifica-
tions are introduced into it by labour, through which
modifications new values are set up in the land. As Leo XIII
writes : " the soil which is tilled and cultivated with toil
and skill utterly changes its condition : it was wild before —
it is fruitful now." " Though land," writes J. S. Mill,* " is
not the produce of industry most of its valuable quahties
are." In France, for instance, the net productiveness of
the land increased, by cultivation, fifty per cent, between
the years 1851-1874.I
Besides, it is necessary to point out that if no private
individual may own land because he does not produce it,
then neither can any community or State own land, because
they do not produce it. Indeed, in that case not even all
humanity could have a claim to it, because the land in its
original condition comes from nature and is not produced
by human hands. Moreover, if only what a man produces
by his own exertions can be owned, then even when a man
sows seed in the land he could not own the fruits — in fact,
* " Political Economy," p. 140.
t L. Beaulieu, " La Repartition des Richesses," p. no.
282 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
he could not take from the land anything but the seed he had
^ut into it. For the seed becomes a plant or a tree, and
grows to maturity and to fruit, not by human labour, but
almost wholly by the operation of the natural forces inherent
in the land, and what is due to these forces, according to
the present theory, could not be owned. The full and
logical application of the theory, therefore, that the land
cannot be privately owned because it is not produced by
any person, leads to a conclusion that is not only absurd in
itself, but would if practically applied, prove most disastrous
to the community. For who would dream of putting his
labour into the soil or sowing seed or planting trees if he
could not make his own of the natural increase ? No man
sows seed for the purpose of receiving the same in return.
Necessity of private ownership for the public welfare.
Private ownership was necessary in ancient times, if the
fruits of the soil were to be produced. The State at that
time could not have undertaken the cultivation of the soil,
and unless private owners undertook it the land would not
"be cultivated. Accordingly, we find that whenever one of
these ancient governments effected a settlement it im-
mediately afterwards * proceeded to parcel out the land
amongst the people, to be owned and cultivated by pri-
vate individuals and famihes, so that the fruits might be
produced, and the people be fed.
That private ownership is necessary in modern times is
also evident. For instance, in practically all newly dis-
covered or newly developed countries it is found that, in
spite of the great facihties which exist nowadays for the
undertaking of large national operations, the land, if not
taken into private hands, still remains uncultivated and,
therefore, useless to the community ; for which reason
governments which are in any way anxious for the public
welfare are always only too willing to give over the land to
private individuals, and even to supply the capital with
which to work it. " The most prominent economic features
in a new country," writes Prof. Bastable, " are abundance
of land with scarcity of both labour and capital ; land is
■consequently the cheapest of commodities, so much so, that
it is freely offered in full ownership as an inducement to
fresh settlers." f And the reason is obvious. No man is
• See Fustel de Coulanges, " Origin of Property in Land," p. 89.
t " Public I'inancc," p. 174. A lesson may be pointed here. What
'Would bi' the (• fleet on those who are now, at the instigation of the
REMAINING DEFECTS 283
going to invest capital in land, and spend his best labour
upon it, and effect permanent improvements in it, unless
the land is his own property. Why should he work and
undergo expense in order to enrich other people ? It is
only by being made owner of the soil and possessing full
security of tenure that a man can be certain that the fruits
of present labour and present expenditure will be his own,
fruits, be it remembered, that on the one hand, often do
not appear until many years after the expenditure is under-
gone, and, on the other, that often are permanent once they
do appear, so that only an assured permanent occupation
of the soil can secure to a man the full ownership of that
which is his own.
It is plain then that unless a man is owner of the soil the
best will not be done for the soil. On the other hand, given
ownership, and then nothing will be spared in the way of
labour and expense. The poorest lands in Europe have
been turned by private ownership into land yielding the
richest harvests. " There is not a foot of waste land in the
Engadine," writes Mr. Wallace,* " the lowest part of which
is not much lower than the top of Snowdon. Wherever
grass will grow there it is, wherever an ear of rye will ripen
there it is to be found." In Norway where enormous results
have been attained in the domain of agriculture, the effects
are due to one cause only, viz. that the people " feel as pro-
prietors who receive the advantage of their own exertions."
public authorities, undertaking the cultivation of the soil in new
countries, effecting permanent improvements in it by their money
and their labour, and thus turning it from a non-paying into a paying
concern, if, when finally it was turned into a source of wealth, the
public should cry out : Is not the land for the people ? Was it not
given by God for the use of all ? Why should any individual own it ?
The principle of land-nationalisation, that private persons should
not be left in ownership of the soil, is an outrageous and scandalous
violation, not of justice only, but even of common decency. Of
course like every other shibboleth this also has in it some element of
truth. It is true that the land was given by God that the people
might have food, clothing, and the other necessaries and comforts
of life. What is often forgotten is that it is only by placing the land
in the hands of private owners that its fruits can be produced for the
race in plenty. " The earth," writes Leo XIII, " though divided
among private owners, ceases not thereby to minister to the needs of
all, for there is no one who does not live on what the land brings
forth." And, as another writer says (Mr. Flint, " Socialism," p. 148),
" if, as socialists remind us, God made the land for the good of all,
He cannot have so given it to all that it could benefit none. And
certainly it is through land becoming the property of some that it
kcan become profitable to any."
284 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The same is true of Germany, of Belgium, of France, of tlie
Channel Islands. Under private ownership the worst lands
in Europe have been turned into sources of abundant wealth.
" The magic of property," savs Arthur Young, " turns sand
to gold."
And this necessity for private ownership becomes more
and more evident as the population of a country grows and
its commercial system develops. In a developed country
intensive cultivation is absolutely required if the land is
to be made to yield a profit and if the population is to be
maintained. Intensive cultivation is required not only in
the older but also in the newer countries in spite of their
vast tracts of cultivatable land. " In America," said Sir H.
Plunkett,* "it is recognised that the increase in population
during the last decade had so outgrown in proportion to
the food-production that unless remedies are forthcoming
the United States would not be able to feed itself, and,
instead of exporting food supplies, would have to import
them." But intensive cultivation implies, first, the effecting
of continuous costly improvements, and, secondly, the
fullest and most whole-hearted labour and care, not for a
period only, but continuously, on the part of those who
cultivate the land. For the essence of intensive cultivation
is that the best that is in the land should be got out of it ;
also that capacities which are not naturally in the soil should
be created in it by human exertion, i.e. by artificial enrich-
ment and by the exercise of continuous care and labour.
Without such expenditure and such care much land will
remain useless ; much more will remain far below the full
level of cultivation.
The conclusion to which we are led by all this reasoning
is that private ownership in land is necessary for the public
welfare. We do not say under what conditions private
ownership to be beneficial ought to be exercised. 'We claim
merely that private ownership of some kind is necessary.
It is necessary if the crops are to be produced and the world
made richer from the land.
Incfjicacy of the methods proposed for eliminating present
private ownership.
The conclusion to which we were led in the last section
may be confirmed by consideration of the methods proposed
for getting rid of the present owners. For it must be ad-
• A< T,'in<1on, Mnrch 15th, 1913.
REMAINING DEFECTS 285
mitted that in most countries the land is at present owned
by private persons, and these must first be removed from
their position as owners before the land could be turned into
national property. For this end there are only two methods
possible, the method of confiscation and the method of
purchase. Now from what has already been said it will be
manifest that simply to confiscate all present private pro-
perty in land, i.e. to take the land from the present private
owners without compensation of any kind, would be a great
and intolerable injustice which no reasonable person would
think of advocating. But there are writers who advocate
the compulsory appropriation by the State of the whole
land of the country, due compensation being made to the
existing owners. But this is impossible, or, at all events, if
carried out, would be a wholly unprofitable transaction.
The disadvantages, however, to which we here allude are
not the disadvantages that we have already discussed,
viz. that if private ownership happened to be abolished,
the land would not be properly worked (a position which
we think has already been made abundantly clear) but the
special disadvantage that the public purchase of the lands,
even if it could be accomplished, would lay such a burden
on the community as would make the transaction wholly
unprofitable if not a definite source of loss to the nation.
There are, of course, cases where some of the owners have
been bought out by the State, as in Ireland, where the land-
lords' interest was purchased so as to turn the tenants
into full proprietors. But this meant buying out some of
the owners only ; and, besides, the purchase made in the
case of Ireland was largely effected by making the tenant
farmer the buyer, the expense of purchase being borne,
not by the community at large but by the tenant himself
whom the State merely helped to buy out the land, and
to whom it lent money for the purpose. But, as we have
said, the attempt to buy out at the pubHc expense all the
landowners in any country would be an immense trans-
action, probably impossible, and certainly unprofitable.
Let us take the case of France. In France a sum of
twenty million pounds is annually sunk in the land for
purposes of improvement.* Not all of this, of course,
is permanent improvement. But much of it is. In
fifty years these accumulated sums would amount in
the way of permanent improvement to perhaps five
hundred milhons. Even if in the purchase of the land
I
* L. Beaulieu, " La Repartition des Richesses," p. no.
286 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
no other compensation were to be made than the valne
of the improvements during these fifty years, how
closely allied to the impossible the transaction appears \
And, if possible, how utterly unprofitable ! The net profits
of the large landowners in France do not amount to four
per cent.* on the outlay in improvements. Now, in order to
buy them out, money should be borrowed at from four ta
four and a half per cent. The purchase of their interests,
therefore, would mean borrowing from Peter to pay Paul,
with definite loss in the transaction. Or let us take a case
more favourable to the socialist schemes. What would it
profit the community at large if the interests of the land-
lords in England were acquired by public purchase ? Money
should be borrowed at least at from four to four and a half
per cent, and by means of this money, the public would
become possessed of the present net profit of the landlords.
And what is that present net profit ? According to Mr.
R. 1. Thompson f the net return to the landlords of England
and Wales after allowance is made for capital spent in
drainage, fences, etc., is at the low rate of ^^5 8s. 4d. per cent.
Such purchase would obviously confer little or no gain on
the community. The purchase, therefore, even of the land-
lords' interests in England, would hardly be a source of
profit to the country, whilst to purchase all titles would be
next to impossible. But, as was said before, even if these
titles were appropriated by the community, and all private
ownership in the land was eliminated, the community at
large would be finally the loser, since without private owner-
ship the proper cultivation of the land would not be secured.
The proposed methods for administering the land under
the system of public ownership.
Just a word on the several possible methods for cultivating
the soil, when private ownership has been eliminated. It is
evident from the consideration of these methods that cultiva-
tion under the socialist rdgime will be wholly impossible.
The possible metliods are, first, cultivation by salaried
officials ; second, part appropriation of the harvest by the
cultivator. J If the land is to be tilled by official farmers
• L. Bcaulicu, " Le CoUectivisme," p. 38.
t Paper read before Royal Statistical Society of London (Dec,
1907) and now published in their journal.
{ Wc pass over the case in which the farmer owns the fruits, but
Eays a fixed rental to the government as in Australia, for that, as we
ave already said, leaves the farmers, once they arc given fixity of
tenure, private owners of the soil.
REMAINING DEFECTS 287
and all the fruits are to be sent to a great central depot,
the cultivators receiving a regular salary, then there is no
incentive to do more than what entitles the cultivator to
this guaranteed salary. Moreover, the entire fruits will not
go to the government, and the net result will be that the
farmers, as well as receiving most of the fruits of the soil,
will also receive a salary for producing them.
The second system is no better. If the farmer is given
a certain quantity of fruits by way of return for his labour
he will produce that quantity and as little as possible in
addition. Moreover, of this addition he will appropriate
as much as possible. Besides, in the production of it he will
have little care for the expenses used up in production, and
so the net return to the government on what it pays out
will be exceedingly small. Of course it is possible to imagine
a farmer undergoing all expenses himself, being left in entire
possession of the fruits, and then paying the government
a small proportion of the net return from the land by way
of rent. But that would leave the farmer private owner ;*
and, also, in a country like England the question would still
arise whether it was worth while purchasing the interests
of the landlord for the sake of receiving this rental.
Short, then, of some system of private ownership, at least
such a degree of it as obtains in the Colonies, in which the
farmers are given security of tenure and have full control
of the land and of the fruits, it seems impossible to devise
a method by which men can be induced to cultivate the
soil on terms which will render it a source of public profit ;
and, therefore, if private ownership should ever be abolished
in land, and the land taken over by the community, the
great difficulty for the community will be to know what to
do with it. It seems to us that what must happen is a
gradual reversion to the system of private ownership under
peasant cultivators enjoying at least security of tenure.
Our reasoning on this whole question of land nationahsa-
tion has necessarily been of the briefest kind. But it will
suffice to disprove the two cardinal tenets of the theory of
land-nationaUsation — viz. first, that the land cannot be
owned by private individuals because it is not produced
by human labour ; and, secondly, that the land under the
system of public ownership would be more beneficial to the
community than under the system of private ownership.
• It would be the mixed system adopted in Australia except that
in Australia the rental is a fixed sum.
288 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The conclusion to which our reasoning in the present discus-
sion leads us is that though certain evils attach to the system
of private ownership in land, e.g. that in some * countries
the proportion of the population living by the soil is un-
doubtedly too small, nevertheless, the system of private
ownership is the system best suited for the attainment of
that end for which the soil is primarily given in the scheme
of nature, namely, the production of the fruits of the earth
and their enjoyment by the human race.j
* In England this is in part due to historical factors, in part to
industrial conditions, and in part to want of security of tenure
on the part of the farmer. Of course, if a farmer is to be interested
in his land he must have security of tenure. But it is to be remembered
that in regard to the number of persons that live from the .soil England
is in quite an exceptional position. In the United States there are
about five million holdings, and so the number of families in occupa-
tion of the soil in America must be very large. In Germany 86 per cent,
of the soil is owned by occupiers, and in 1895 there were about six
million holdings (Webb, op. cit.). In France there are about six
million families in occupation (Mermeix, " Le Socialisme," p. 189).
In Ireland there were in 1912 about 550,000 families occupying the
soil out of about 800,000 families constituting the entire population.
We admit, of course, that not all of their holdings are self-sufficing.
t After all that we have said on land nationalisation it will not
be necessary to make a special examination of the Single Tax theory
connected with the name of Mr. Henry George. Its first supposition
is that the land in so far as it is the work of nature cannot be privately
owned, production, Mr. George asserts, being the only rightful title
of ownership. Then its proposals are deduced. They are first to
pay the landlord for all the improvements he has made in the soil,
to leave the cultivators owners of the soil, and owners of the fruits,
but to put a tax upon the produce of the land corresponding to the
original values of the soil, its values before human labour was spent
upon it. These original values, he declares, represent so great a
proportion of the total produce of the land, that when they are taken
from this produce they will suffice to pay all the expenses of the
State without resort to any other sort of tax. Hence the name of
" single-tax." As a result of course, since most of the produce of the
land will go to the government by way of tax, not much will remain to
remunerate the farmer for his work.
Our reply is obvious. First, it is utterly untrue that the land,
«ven 80 far as concerns its original values, cannot be owned by private
persons. This we have proved in the course of our discussion on land
nationalisation ; secondly, if the farmer is left only a small portion
of the produce of the land as rimuneration for his work he will not
spend money on, or give his lalwur to, the land. The Australian
government cannot get men to cultivate the soil where the rental
paid is more than two or three per cent, of the capital value ; thirdly,
the figures given in the text will show that the original values of the
soil arc not large in comparison with those created by human labour.
The productiveness of the land in France was increased in the space
of twenty-three years by fifty prr cent. Indeed, we are not without
REMAINING DEFECTS 289
APPENDIX B
Nationalisation of the Coal-Mines
The reader may wish for a brief answer at this point to
the question whether the coal-mines ought to be nationahsed.
Already we have pointed out that nationalisation might be
a good thing in certain extreme cases (full compensation, of
course, being made to owners), for instance, where nationalisa-
tion of the mines is necessary in order to prevent the too
rapid depletion of the national resources in coal, or in order
to provide an assured and constant supply of coal in time
of war.
But apart from such extreme cases it is pretty clear that
the nationaUsation of the coal-mines, in England at all
events, would be of no value to the nation and could hardly
be effected without injustice to the existing owners. Un-
thinking persons are wont to look on ^coal-mines as sources
of immense wealth to their owners, of wealth the acquiring
of which is attended by no financial risk of any kind. As a
matter of fact, enormous sums of money have to be spent
on coal-mines before they can become a source of profit
to their owners, and many of the colUeries in England are
not at present a source of profit. " Many collieries," said
Mr. D. A. Thomas, addressing the Consohdated Cambrian
Company (Feb. 24th, 1915), " on last year's working
would pay no dividend at all on their ordinary shares."
And Mr. Mallock * quotes a case, which even the labour
leaders regarded as representing the normal conditions, of a
coal-mine the total receipts of which amounted to ;^7io,ooo,
of which ^^63 1,000 went in wages only £39,000 being paid in
dividend to the shareholders.
absolute figures as to the value of the soil apart from cultivation.
Whereas it is known that the agricultural products of Great Britain
are about ;^22 5,000,000, the original value of the agricultural land in
England and Wales is computed by Mr. Thompson in the paper
already referred to, to be about six millions. The original natural
values of the soil thus represent a very small proportion of the present
productiveness, at least in the case of agricultural land. Fourthly,
this figure gives no hope that by means of a single tax on land the
government can pay all the expenses of the State. Even before the
great war (1914) the expenditure of Great Britain and Ireland was
close on two hundred millions, whilst the total original land values,
including not merely agricultural land, but those of the mines and
the building-sites, was only about fifty millions (See Harold Cox,
" Land Nationalisation," p. 134 ; also Inland Revenue Report,
Col. 2,228, p. 205).
* " Social Reform," p. 266.
VOL. II— 19
290 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The significance of these facts is obvious. On the one
hand, they make it clear that if in the olden days the mines
had not been opened by private owners they could not be
opened at all, such are the risks run and the care required
to make a mine a paying concern, so that to confiscate the
mines, now that the mines have been opened by private
owners, would be a scandalous piece of brigandage, and would
be sure to do immense harm to business generally by breaking
down the confidence of the people. On the other hand, to
purchase these mines would, judging by the figures we have
quoted, be of little or no financial value to the State. And
the value of such purchase will seem all the less when it is
remembered that the mines in England have been working
for a considerable time, and that a mine, unlike other sources
of wealth, decreases in value according as it is worked. In
many of the English mines the cheaply-worked and more
valuable seams are now exhausted. Consequently to take
them over now would be to take over a property already
much depreciated in value.
APPENDIX C
The Unearned Increment on Building-Sites
To nationalise the building-sites themselves would be
quite impossible. It would be impossible, for instance, for
the government to enter into a bargain with the land-
owners for the purchase of every plot of ground in the
country on which a house happened to appear. Even the
trouble and expense of acquiring these sites, not to speak
of their administration, would be very great.
What, however, is seriously proposed is to pui a heavy tax
on all unearned increments on the value of tlie building-
sites ; and this, since these unearned increments gcneralty
occur in cities or their neighbourhood, would, it is said, to
a large extent, define and limit the area within which pur-
chases by government might be made.
Now it is evident that unearned increments on land are
not to be regarded as unlawful in any way. They are
increments in value due to increased demand, and they are
just as lawful as increases in the value of any other commo-
dities due to increased demand, Wliat is wrong about them
is that they arc so often excessive. I'-ggs that at one
time are sold for twopence could not at another time be
REMAINING DEFECTS 291
sold for a pound, no matter how great the demand. There
is a just price which ought not to be exceeded by the seller,
and this price, even after increment occurs, always bears
some proportion to the original value of the article. On
the other hand, in the case of building-sites, the price de-
manded is often a hundred times greater than the original
value, and often no limit in the price demanded is observed
except the limits imposed by the necessities of the buyers.
This is altogether unreasonable and wrong.
Though, therefore, what is spoken of as unearned incre-
ment in land is not unlawful, still in dealing with, and im-
posing taxes on, increments in the values of building-sites,
government ought to be given a very free hand. For, first,
a good deal of money would thus accrue to the community ;
and, secondly, such a tax, particularly if it is made pro-
gressive, would help to prevent the extortions which at
present are only too common in cities, extortions which go
very far to prevent the erection of useful and necessary
buildings of various kinds, and, as common sense will show
us, the burden of which has in the long run to be borne
for the most part by the poorer classes, in the increased
rents they have to pay, increased food-prices, and their
diminished weekly wage.
APPENDIX D
Theory of Primitive Communism in Land
The theory that all land origially belonged to the com-
munity and that private ownership in land is of comparatively
recent origin is obviously of great importance, not only in
history but in Moral Science and Economics also. Here we
are interested in the theory on its moral side chiefly. " In
all primitive societies," writes M. de Laveleye,* " the soil
was the joint property of the tribe and was subject to
periodical distribution among all the families, so that all
might live by their labour as nature has ordained." He
instances a number of alleged present survivals of this
ancient system, and also gives documentary proof of its
original existence even in countries where no trace of com-
munal ownership now remains. He maintains that there
can be no doubt that communal ownership once existed in
• " Primitive Property," preface.
292 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Russia, Switzerland, Java, India, Germany, amongst the
Celts, and even in Greece and Rome, thus establishing a
strong presumption that in the earliest period of man's
existence communal ownership obtained universally, to the
complete exclusion of private ownership. And though
M. de Laveleye does not recommend a return to this com-
munal system, he yet considers that it is more natural than
private ownership, and his work has been utilised by other
writers to establish the contention that communal ownership
is preferable to private ownership, as more in accordance
with natural law.
Reply. — M. de Laveleye's theory which at one time com-
manded almost universal acceptance amongst students of
ancient history, may now be regarded as on the verge of
becoming obsolete. All recent investigation into ancient
forms of ownership has favoured unreservedly the view that
private ownership in land preceded common ownership, not
only in general but also even in the special cases appealed
to by M. de Laveleye in support of his theory. But though
this theory is now nearly obsolete, nevertheless a few words
will be required here upon it — first, as to the exact bearing
of the theory favoured by M. de Laveleye on the general
moral problem of the right of private ownership in land,
and then, secondly, on the special question of history, whether
viz. pubUc ownership is more ancient than private owner-
ship and whether it ever obtained universally in the world.*
{a) It is now universally conceded, and has been con-
ceded even by M. de Laveleye himself, that wherever com-
munal ownership in land has obtained, almost in every case,
the land-owning village has consisted of people united by
blood, and forming between them one large family. Thus
in the case of the Russian Mir, M. de Laveleye writes : " the
patriarchal family is the basis of the commune ; and the
members of the Mir (the village community) are generally
considered as descended from a common ancestor. Family
ties have maintained a force among the Russians, as also
among the Slavs of the Danube and the Balkans, which
they have lost elsewhere. . . . All property is common.
There is usually neither succession nor partition." But it
must be conceded that ownership by the family, however
large, is a very different thing from i)ublic ownership. If at
• Section a will be devoted to the consideration of the first of
these two questions, section b to the second.
REMAINING DEFECTS 293
present a portion of land were in the possession of a single
family and if, as the children married and the family grew,
the land by mutual consent or by direction of the law re-
mained undivided, the whole family participating in the
fruits, no one would consider such a form of ownership as
public or common. It would be regarded as simply a case
of private family ownership.
We do not, of course, maintain that such cases of common
ownership as at present exist, or alleged cases of it in the
past, are always to be explained as a survival of ancient
family ownership. In England, for instance, the serfs were
often allotted a portion of land by their over-lord to be held
and used in common by them ;* and often certain lands were
held in common for the simple reason that nobody had ever
positively appropriated these lands. Thus in most countries,
side by side with the system of private property, there
existed also cases of communal ownership which could not
be explained as instances of private family ownership. f
But none of these cases afford the shghtest ground for be-
lieving that originally all land was held in common. On
the contrary, they are practically all off-shoots, or bye-
products of private ownership whether by individuals or
famihes.
(b) The historical question proper, whether as a matter
of fact all land was originally held in common, can only be
treated here in the very briefest manner. For fuller informa-
tion on this difficult and important subject the reader is
referred to the various authorities mentioned in the notes
to the present section. That private property in land
existed and was accepted by the people as the traditional
and normal form of ownership in the earliest periods known
to history can easily be estabhshed.
The Jews, for instance, admitted the right of private
ownership, as is proved by Abraham's purchase of a field
from Ephron, and as is also abundantly evidenced in the
law not to covet one's neighbour's wife, nor his house, nor
his field.
• See Seebohm, " The English Village Community."
t In ancient Ireland these commons were annually re-divided
amongst the people of the township, a fact says Prof. O'Sullivan
(Preface to " O'Curry's Lectures," second series) which gave rise to
the idea that all land was held in common. See G. Sigerson, Land
Tenures of Ireland.
294 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Concerning Egypt there is an abundance of historical
evidence both sacred and profane. From sacred history,
for instance, we have the story of the sale of private lands
to Joseph by the Egyptians. Profane history provides us
with innumerable examples of private property, one of which
only needs to be mentioned. In his "Ancient History of
the Monuments" (Vol. on Egypt, p. 31) Mr. Birch* refers
us to an ancient record dating as far back as the reign of
Senefru (3000 B.C.) in which a certain official is recounted
as the private owner of land, " some of which came to him
by hereditary descent, whilst some was the gift of the
monarch."
The history of Babylon supplies innumerable proofs that
private property was the settled system of the nation even
at the very beginnings of history. In his work, " A History
of Sumer and Akkad," f Mr. L. W. King writes, " the
earliest written records of the Sumerians," whose political
career, as Mr. King explains in his preface, preceded the
Babylonian monarchy, " which we possess, apart from those
engraved upon stone, and of a purely votive character, con-
cern the sale and donation of land." He then gives instances
of private property which brings us back to 3,000 B.C.
Boscawen, also, in his interesting work, " The First of
Empires," J refers to inscriptions dating back to 3,800 B.C.
in which plans of private estates with the names of their
owners are fully described ; and in " Records of the Past "
(New Series, Vol. III.) there are reproduced a number of
ancient "Babylonian agricultural precepts" (based on the
system of private property) from an old mutilated tablet
in the British Museum which brings us back to 3,800 B.C.
At this early period, therefore, in the history of the race,
private property seems to have been the normal and accepted
system, whilst of a general system of communal ownership
proper, if ever it existed, no trace seems to have remained.
And what we say of the private economical relations of
the Babylonian people we say also of their legal system —
• Sec also Birch's " Egypt from the Earliest Times." The reader
who wishes to realise the great antiquity of private property and the
place it held in the economic system of the world, even at the very
dawn of history, should consult two very delightful series of books-
one, "History of the Monuments," in which the proofs are narrated,
and the conclusions drawn ; the other, " Records from the Past,"
in which one is brought into contact with the historical sources.
t Chapter on " The Dawn of History."
\ P- M-J-
REMAINING DEFECTS 295
the laws of Babylon were based upon the understanding of
private ownership. In the oldest code of laws known to
history — the code of Hammurabi * (2,285 B.C.) there are
numerous injunctions as regards the management and
sale of private lands, for instance, that " a votary merchant
or foreign sojourner may sell his field," all of which in-
junctions prove that private ownership obtained not merely
at the beginnings of history but also at a much earlier period,
since the legal systems of the East are, above all things,
conservative, and are in every case a reflex of customs and
of a system far older than themselves.
(c) The many instances of common ownership alleged by
M. de Laveleye are, as we have already said, no longer re-
garded as proof either that the system of common owner-
ship originally obtained universally in the world, or even
that it preceded the system of private ownership in the
particular countries where something like common ownership
still exists. On the contrary, all recent investigation into
the origin of property is regarded as leading to the conclusion
that, even in the countries instanced by M. de Laveleye in
support of his theory, private property preceded the system
of common ownership. The steps, for instance, which led
to the establishment of communal ownership in the case of
the Russian Mir, which occupies so prominent a place in
M. de Laveleye's discussion, are now well known. f These
communal lands were once the private property of the
Russian nobles. The peasants who tilled these lands were
♦ " The Oldest Gjde of Laws in the World," translated by C. H.
W. Johns, M.A.; see also Cook, " The Laws of Moses and the Code
of Hammurabi," p. 17. In the " Letters of Hammurabi " (ed. by
L. W. King, p. 28) it is narrated how in " the district of the town of
Dun-gugurri the ownership of the land by Ea-lu-bani is ancient for
on a tablet it is ascribed to him " — a very interesting narration.
Further ancient references from the tablets in the British Museum,
recording contracts for sale of land are given in " Records of the
Past," and should be consulted by the reader.
That private property was the admitted system of land owner-
ship in Assyria at the earliest historical period is proved by docu-
mentary evidence similar to the above. For the references we can
only refer the reader to G. Smith's " Ancient History from the Monu-
ments " (Assyria), and " The Annals of the Kings of Assyria," by
Leonard King (see e.g. p. 252).
In connection with this whole argument we have to express our
great indebtedness to Father Cathrein, S.J., for the guidance given
us in his work, " Moralphilosophie," Vol. II.
t See Art. by W. G. Simkhowitch in ' ' Handworterbuch der Staats-
wissenschaf ten . ' '
296 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
at that time freemen, coming and going when they willed.
Then at the end of the sixteenth century the peasants were
forcibly attached to the soil by law. At the beginning of
the eighteenth century came the well-known poll-tax of
Peter the Great, and many writers are of the opinion that it
was on that occasion that the tenants threw their various
holdings into one, under a system of common ownership.
Whether this is correct or not it is now certain that the
system of common ownership in the Russian Mir is of quite
recent origin. In a recent work upon the subject Jan St.
Lewinski writes :* " The European Russian Village Com-
munities " [with their common lands] " did not exist in
the olden time : they originated and developed only out of
private property and since the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries," and, having reviewed the other instances men-
tioned by socialists, he gives us as his final general con-
clusion : " individual ownership is the primitive and natural
form."
Want of space forbids our discussing at any length the
other instances mentioned by M. de Laveleye. But a full
and very able discussion on them will be found in Fustel
de Coulanges' work, " The Origin of Property in Land."
More recent information even can be acquired from St.
Lewinski's book already mentioned. f In practically all the
cases mentioned by M. de Laveleye any traces of common
ownership that still survive are simply relics of an ancient
family ownership. This is obviously true, e.g. of the Balkan
States, of India, and of the Celts.
But a special reference to the land system of the ancient
Celts may well be allowed in a work emanating from Ireland.
Among the Celts land was formerly vested in the family to
four generations. And even this title, dividing the owner-
ship of the land among so many, had rather a legal than an
economic significance. Its principal use was to determine
ownership in case of dispute. In reality, however, and in
practice each single branch of the family owned and ad-
ministered its own share. In Irisli history there is nothing
whatever to favour the theory that originally all the land
was the joint property of the whole ])eople or even of the
people of a particular district. The theory that originally
in Ireland all land was common is, indeed, based on pure
• " The Origin of Property," p. 29.
f And from various works published by Prof. Ashley, fi.g.~ his
introduction to I**ustel <!c Coulanges' work already quoted, and his
own interesting book: " Surveys, Historical and Economic."
REMAINING DEFECTS 297
misinterpretation of a very simple fact. In Ireland, as in
most other countries, there were always some common lands
existing side by side with the private estates. Such common
lands exist to-day and are of exceeding great use wherever
they are found. Now, in ancient Ireland these common
lands were annually distributed, and this annual distribution
has been erroneously taken by certain modern writers as
proof that the whole land was divided annually and, there-
fore, could not have been owned by private individuals.
See interesting discussion on this whole subject in Dr.
Sigerson's Land Tenures of Ireland ; also "A Social History
of Ancient Ireland," by P. W. Joyce, Vol. I., p. 184.
CHAPTER IX
ON CONTRACTS
DEFINITION
Contract is defined as a mutual agreement between
two or more persons concerning something to be done
or omitted, and productive of an obligation in justice
in one or both of the parties.
First, contract is an agreement, i.e. an assent of two
wills to the same object. A promise, for instance,
which is not accepted is not a contract, there being
assent on the part of one will only. Secondly, this
agreement must be mutual. Two wills might just
happen to assent to the same thing, but double assent
of this casual kind is not a contract. In a contract
the assent on one side is given in view of the assent given
on the other. This is what is meant by mutual assent.
Thirdly, contractual agreement begets an obligation —
an obligation in justice. Not every obligation is an
obligation in justice. If one man promises to go for a
walk with another, he is bound, if he can, to keep his
word — ^but, in truthfulness only, not in justice. If he
fails to keep his word he has not violated any right in
justice of the promisee. His promise, therefore, is not
a contract. We should add that, generally speaking,
rights in justice arise only in cases in which there is
question of an object or utility or a service which is
prctio acstimahilc, as will be seen when we come to speak
of the object of contract. Fourthly, the obligation in
justice which is necessary to a contract may be on
one side only. It is only assent to the object of the
contract, not obligation, that is required on both sides.
The above definition implies certain conditions of
298
ON CONTRACTS 299
contract which must be here briefly explained. They
relate : —
(a) to the contractual act — the act of agreement or
consent ;
(b) to the object of this act ;
(c) to the contracting parties.
(a) Consent
the parts or elements of consent
The two parts or elements of contractual consent are
offer and acceptance. These are present in every con-
tract. In the contract of promise, for instance, there ia
offer on one side and acceptance on the other. In
buying and selling, these two elements are present on
both sides. No contract is to be regarded as valid or
complete unless an offer of some kind is made by one
party and accepted by the other.
Two important questions arise in relation to these
two elements of consent, viz. — when does offer cease ?
and, should the act of acceptance be brought to the
knowledge of the offerer ?
(a) Cessation of offer.
An offer remains open so long as the offerer wishes,
subject to the duty of not injuring the other party.
Ordinarily, it ceases in any of the three following
ways — ^by revocation, by lapse, by rejection.
An offer can he revoked, but, like offer itself, revocation
should be made known to the other party to the con-
tract. Also revocation should occur before the original
offer is accepted— else it is too late. For acceptance
fixes the offer and the contract. It should be noted,
however, that the mode of acceptance depends wholly
on the offerer, he may require any condition in the
acceptance that he likes, and unless that condition is
fulfilled the offer is not supposed to be validly accepted.
An interesting point in connection with revocation is
300 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
that whereas an offer may be revoked, acceptance
cannot, and for the obvious reason that acceptance
closes and seals the contract.
Again, offer can cease by lapse of time, i.e. if acceptance
is not signified within a reasonable time the offer lapses
unless, indeed, the offerer still wishes to keep it open.
Finally, offer ceases by rejection, provided again that
it is not kept open by the offerer.
(b) The communication of acceptance.
Should acceptance be brought to the knowledge of
the offerer ? Acceptance must, like offer, be communi-
cated, i.e. manifested by some external act, but once
such act has taken place, is the contract then closed, or
does it remain open until this act of acceptance is actually
brought to the knowledge of the offerer .-* On this point
two opinions prevail ; * but we believe that the negative
opinion has most reason on its side. The chief argument
will probably already have occurred to the reader ;
if the contract is suspended until acceptance is made
known to the offerer, there is no reason in the world
why it should not again be suspended until the fact that
the offerer has been apprised of the acceptance has in
turn been brought to the knowledge of the acceptor.
And thus the contract could never be closed.
In English law, certainly, which in matters of justice
may generally be regarded as reflecting the requirements
of natural law, acceptance need not be brought to the
knowledge of the offerer. " There is," writes Anson, f
" this marked difference between communication of
offer and communication of acceptance ; that whereas
an offer is not held to be communicated until it is brought
to the knowledge of the offeree, acceptance may be held
to be communicated though it has not come to the know-
ledge of the offerer ; and under such circumstances a
contract is made."
• It is maintained by some that at least in the case of bilateral
contracts {.sec later, p. 3(19) such knowledge is required,
t " Law of Contract," p. 28.
ON CONTRACTS 301
THE QUALITIES OF CONSENT
Consent must be free, it must be internally given,
and it must be externally manifested by the parties.
The second and third of these qualities are easily
imderstood. Contract is a human act and, therefore,
consent must be internal. Mere words spoken without
consciousness or internal consent would not be a human
act and could not give rise to contract. On the other
hand, since contract implies communication between two
persons, and since communication can only be by means
of external acts, the internal act of consent must always
be manifested in some way by an external act. But
important and difficult questions arise in regard to the
first of the three qualities of consent mentioned, viz.
the freedom of consent. Of this quality we must speak
at greater length than of the other two.
The freedom of consent is vitiated, first, by ignorance
or error ; secondly, by fear or duress. A man cannot
be said to consent freely to something which he does not
know. And a man cannot be said to give free consent
where consent is wrung out of him by fear. We shall
treat, therefore, first, of error as vitiating contract,
secondly, of fear.
ERROR
The natural rule as to the effect of error or mistake
on contracts is — no consent no contract, and, therefore,
it is only in so far as error excludes consent that it
vitiates contract. But consent is of two kinds — explicit
and implied ; and since either is sufficient for a valid
contract, it follows that ignorance or mistake affects
contract only when it excludes both kinds of consent.
Now everyone makes mistakes about or is ignorant
of the qualities of an object in some points. In every
object there are very many points which nobody under-
stands. But there is always a core or substance in the
object which a man stipulates for and concerning which
302 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
there should be no mistake. As to other points, he takes
a lot for granted and takes his chance of the rest, and
gives an implied consent to the reality whatever it is.
Mistake, therefore, vitiates contract only in so far as it
affects this central core, for this is all that the person
stipulates for in the making of the contract. In the
following principles we mark off the points or character-
istics in regard to which there should be no mistake if
the contract is to be binding.
General principles as to the effect of error.
I. Error which is substantial, i.e. which concerns the
substance of the contract, destroys consent and invali-
dates the contract. Where error concerns the substance
of a contract consent may, indeed, be given to something
other than the contract, but it is not given to the con-
tract itself.
Error is substantial in the following cases : —
(i) When it concerns the species of the contractual act,
e.g. a man, thinking that an object is being sold to him, finds
that it is only lent.
(2) When it concerns the substance of the object, pro-
vided that the substance intended identifies the object or
defines the thing required, e.g. the purchase of a silver orna-
ment instead of a gold. Where the substance does not
identify the object which it is intended to purchase, error
as regards the substance of the object does not invalidate
the contract.
(3) When it concerns a quality only, which quality, never-
theless, is primarily intended, and, as in the last case,
identifies the object which one intends to purchase. The
quality in this case is said rcdundare in subsiuntiani and error
concerning it has the same etlect as error concerning the
substance of the object. An obvious example is the case
of one who asks expressly for an " old master " and receives
a modern painting. Similarly, where it is made clear at
the time of purchase that a thing is intended for a certain
end, then unless what is bought is reasonably suitable for
this end the contract is invalid. In this case it is the end
that identifies the object which one means to buy.
ON CONTRACTS 303
(4) When something is made a conditio sine qua non of
the contract. This, of course, includes the case just men-
tioned, but it covers other cases also in which the difference
of value between what is received and what is contracted
for is less enormous than the difference ordinarily obtaining
between an " old master " and a modern painting.
(5) When it concerns the person of the other party to
the contract but only under conditions which will presently
be explained. Sometimes the person, concerning whom the
other party is ignorant, is himself not only one of the con-
tracting parties but is also the object of the contract. In
that case evidently the contract is invalid just as in the
second case mentioned above. If a man, for instance, goes
through a contract of marriage with one woman thinking
he is marrying another, the contract is null and void. But
this is not the kind of case which we are now considering.
The kind of error now under consideration is error concern-
ing the other party to the contract, as such, and, as we have
already said, such error invalidates the contract, but in one
case and under one condition only, namely, it invalidates
the contract where the primary intention of one of the
parties is not merely to make a certain contract, e.g. to make
a certain purchase, but to do business with, or to make a
purchase from a particular party. If, for instance, I made
it clear to the seller that the sole reason why I have come to
make a purchase is to help him in his difficulties, whereas,
as a matter of fact, it turns out that I have entirely mistaken
the person, my contract is invalid. An offer which is
primarily and manifestly meant for one person cannot be
accepted by another. But mere error concerning the
identity of the person from whom I make a purchase, with-
out the other condition mentioned, does not invalidate the
purchase.
II. Error about qualities which are immaterial or
slight does not invalidate the contract, or affect it in
any way.
III. Error about qualities which, though not primary
in the sense just explained, are yet so important as to
cause the contract (dans causam contractui), i.e. which
are so important that had the truth been known the
contract would not have been made, affects contracts in
certain important particulars. Gratuitous contracts (that
304 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
is, contracts in which all the utility is on one side, like
promise and gift) are invalidated by error of the kind.
It would be unreasonable to keep a man to his promise
who discovers the great value of the thing promised only
after the promise is made. It is different with onerous
contracts, i.e. contracts in which something is conferred
on both sides as in the case of " buying and selling."
Here error of the kind described does not invalidate the
contract in natural law. An object purchased for ten
pounds may turn out afterwards to have been worth
a hundred even at the time of purchase ; but since the
lower mistaken value was not made a condition of the
contract, and was not meant to identify the object, the
contract is valid in natural law.
In connection with contracts of the kind mentioned
under the third heading, we have now to raise a very
special question of natural justice which also is of im-
portance in civil law. For mistake is sometimes due
not to a purchaser's own want of knowledge or to care-
lessness, but to misrepresentation * on the part of the
seller of an article. And the question arises whether
such misrepresentation affects the contract in any way.
Now we have already seen that the validity of such a
contract is not affected. Misrepresentation affects the
validity of a contract through the mistake which it
creates, and provided it does not induce such a mistake
as would invalidate the contract, the agreement stands
in spite of the misrepresentation, and, as we have seen,
mistake about the qualities here being discussed does
not invalidate the contract.
But though misrepresentation does not invalidate a
contract it has another effect of very great importance,
viz. the wrong which is done to the mistaken party.
And this wrong sets up in the person responsible for the
misrepresentation a very special duty in natural law.
For no man is allowed to benefit by any act of his own,
• whether innocent or fraudulent.
ON CONTRACTS 305
whether voluntary or involuntary, which does or
perpetuates injury to another. Those parties, therefore,
who through their misrepresentations, whether innocent
or fraudulent, have caused a contract to be made, are
bound to release the other party to the contract but
they are not released themselves. In other words, the
contract is voidable at the instance of the party which
is misled.* There is, however, a difference between the
position of the man whose misrepresentation is innocent
and that of the person whose misrepresentation is
fraudulent. In both cases there is a dut}' of releasing
the injured party from the contract, but, whereas in
the case of innocent misrepresentation a man is bound
to restitution only to the extent of any benefit he has
himself received and retains, in fraud he is bound to
indemnify the injured party, benefit or no benefit, and
fully.
FEAR
Fear may be so great as to destroy reason altogether ;
in that case contracts entered into under fear are null
and void. On the other hand, light or frivolous fear
is not taken account of in regard to contracts. But f a
question of great importance arises in connection with
the effect on contract of grave fear. Fear does not bar
consent, and, therefore, as such it has no effect on con-
* Provided, of course, that the contract is of its nature voidable.
Christian marriage, e.g. is not a voidable contract.
The civil law in England has now adopted the above most equitable
principle of natural law. Before the passing of the Judicature Act.
contracts of the kind described in our text were voidable only in case
of fraud. Since the passing of this Act even innocent misrepresenta-
tion is sufficient to render a contract voidable in the civil courts.
t It is said by many writers that in the case of gratuitous contracts
where all the utility is on one side, e.g. promise and gift, light fear
renders the contract voidable, i.e. sets up in the party who inspires
the fear an obligation to rescind the contract. If any such effect
arises in natural law it is because common sense and our sense of pro-
portion would seem to require that, where all the utility is on one
side, the other party has at least a right of freedom even from light
fear.
VOL. n — 20
3o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
tract in natural law. It does not invalidate the con-
tract. The way fear operates is that it compels a man
to consent in violation of his rights ; consequently the
person who inspires unjust fear is bound not only to
remove the fear but to restore the other party to his
full rights, and to make good the damage, if any. This
is the reason why fear which does not proceed from a
free agent has no effect whatsoever on contract, or why
just fear has no effect. In neither case is any one placed
under an obligation of reparation.
Again, there is a difference between fear inspked by
a third person and fear inspired by one of the parties
to the contract. If the fear which is inspired proceeds
from a third party, i.e. one who is not a party to the
contract, and is unjust, its effect in natural law is to
set up a claim in the injured party against the wrong-
doer, but the contract stands. Where, however, unjust
fear is inspired by one of the parties to the contract, its
effect is that the wrong-doer is bound to remove the
fear, to restore to the other party his original right to
dissent, and, therefore, if the other party is willing, to
rescind the contract, and finally to repair any foreseen
injur}'^ that is sustained. This is the effect of grave
fear on contract, and this is its effect whether the fear
which is inspired by one of the parties is inspired in
order to induce the contract or for some other reason.
The only difference in these two cases is that the injury
foreseen in the former case will probably be much
greater, and, therefore, the obligation of reparation
will be greater.
(B). The Object of Contract
The object of contract, or the thing which one con-
tracts to do, must fulfil the following conditions : {a) it
must be possible, physically and morally ; {b) it must be
something existent in re or in spe, else it might be com-
pared to the impossible ; (c) something prctio acstima
ON CONTRACTS 307
bile* a thing or a utility or a service of economic or
marketable value, so to speak ; only such things are
capable of giving rise to an obligation in commutative
justice, and such obligation is of the essence of the
contract. The mere promise to accompany somebody
on a walk would not constitute the contract of promise
properly so called ; {d) something which the contracting
party has power to dispose of ; f {e) something definite
— a purely indeterminate contract is no contract ; (/) and
finally, something which is not morally evil and for-
bidden.
This last condition gives rise to certain problems and
discussions, one of which it will be necessary to consider
here, however briefly.
Contract to do evil.
A contract to do evil is null and void from its very
nature. For wherever there is a true and valid con-
tract, there arises an obligation to do something. Now
there can be no obligation to do the thing which is evil,
on the contrary, the obligation is to avoid it, and,
therefore, the contract to do evil is null and void.
• This is not quite the same thing as " consideration " — a con-
dition which is required for validity in (EngUsh) civil law but is not
required in natural law. Let us exemplify the difference in the case
of " promise." If I promise a horse to a friend and my promise is
accepted, that promise is a valid contract in natural law. But before
such contract would be sustained in English law, and before any
action at law could become possible on account of its non-fulfilment
another condition should be present, the condition, viz. of " con-
sideration," i.e. some benefit to the person making the promise, or
some loss, trouble, inconvenience to, or charge imposed upon the
promisee (by virtue of the non-fulfilment of the promise) should be
proved .
That " consideration " is not quite the same thing as the necessity
of value in the object of the contract is also clear from the fact that
whereas the latter is a condition of all contracts, " consideration "
even in civil law is not a necessary condition of contracts under seal,
but of simple contracts only.
t His possession of the object may be either present or prospective.
English law permits the selling of shares, goods, etc., which one does
not actually own, on the chance of being able to deliver. Roman
law would not recognise such contracts.
3o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
But the problem arises — supposing that in spite of
the evil nature of the object the contract is fulfilled by
one side, is the other party bound to fulfil his part of
the contract ? A promises to give B a sum of money if
he kills C. B kills C. Is A bound to pay ? At first
sight it would seem as if discussion was impossible on
such a problem. How, it will be asked, could such an
obligation arise, since the contract was null and void
from the beginning ? A little consideration, however,
will show that A in the case is really under obligation
(we speak of the law of nature only — positive law might
invalidate the contract wholly) to pay B the stipulated
sum. An offer can be accepted in either of two ways —
either b}^ a promise or by an act. If B accepts A's
offer by a promise to kill C, then, since this promise is a
promise to do evil, it is invalid, and so the contract is
null and void. But if B accepts A's offer by an act, i.e.
by killing C, then since this act, though illicit, is valid,
the act of killing being a complete act and, therefore, as
valid as an act can be, it completes the contract, and
consequently A is bound to keep his promise. The
reader may ask — was not A's promise also invalid since
it concerned an evil thing ? Unfortunately^ however,
A's promise was not invalid. A is complete master of
his own money * and can validly dispossess himself of
it on any condition, good or bad, or without any con-
dition at all.
Since, therefore. A's offer is valid, and since we are
to suppose it as lasting up to the killing of C, and since
this latter act constitutes a valid acceptance, the con-
tract is to be regarded as complete, and, therefore,
A's obligation stands in natural law.t
• Obviously if A offered to kill D on condition that li killed C,
such an offer would be wholly invalid and could never become part of
a valid contract.
f Other Holution.s of tl>j.s problem have also been attempted ; we
believe, however, that that jjivcn in the text is the simplest and most
convincing of all.
Wc may lie allowed to point out here that the object of a contract
may be forbidden not only l)y natural but also by positive law, in-
ON CONTRACTS 309
(C) The Contracting Parties
By natural law the contracting parties should have
the full use of reason at least at the time the contract
is made. Infants and lunatics cannot make a valid
contract.
Others are debarred by positive law from the right to
make a valid contract, not in all, but in certain matters ;
for instance, minors, wives, aliens. Wives, e.g. except
in the case of their own property, are debarred from
making contracts in a number of important matters
where the consent of the husband cannot be legitimately
presumed. In regard, however, to ordinary household
matters it is presumed that a wife's contracts are made
on the responsibility of her husband ; and, therefore,
unless the husband has actually forbidden her to pledge
his credit, such contracts hold good at law. The con-
tractual capacity or incapacity of an}- special class of
people depends on the disposition of the civil law in
each country.
The Different Kinds of Contract
(1) Distinguished according to the end immediately
aimed at, contracts are divided into gratuitous and
onerous, according as the contract aims at conferring
a utility on one side only or on the two. " Promise "
is a gratuitous contract ; " buying and selling " is
onerous.
(2) Distinguished according to their effects, contracts
are either unilateral or bilateral, according as the}^ give
rise to an obligation in justice in one of the parties only
eluding, of course, State law, and in either case the contract to do
such forbidden act is null and void. The State has a full right to make
any object illegal and unsuitable for contract, provided, of course,
that it does not violate ordinary justice in so doing. We wish, however,
to point out that the State often discountenances contracts without
actually making them illegal. It even voids some contracts which
yet are not illegal. For the difference in the civil effects of voiding
a contract and making it illegal see Anson, " Law of Contract," p. 252.
310 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
or in both. Thus " sale " or " buying and selling " is
a bilateral contract. Promise is unilateral.
(3) Distinguished according to the law by which they
bind, they are divided into contracts of natural and
contracts of civil obligation.
(4) Distinguished according to the form of the con-
tract, they are divided into the following four classes : —
(a) consensual and real, according as they are com-
pleted by the mere consent of the parties or require
something to be done, e.g. something to change hands
before the contract is complete. Thus promise is a
consensual contract, loan, a real contract. What con-
tracts are consensual and what real depends largely
upon positive law. The natural law for instance does
not decide whether " buying and selling " is complete
before or only after the goods have passed.
(6) simple and solemn ; simple contracts are those
that subsist by reason simply of the agreement, and are
in no need of special forms or solemnities of any kind.
Solemn contracts are those that require special formalities
over and above the agreement of the parties.*
(c) express and tacit or explicit and implicit, according
as the parties signify their consent formally in words t/r
writing, or simply take upon themselves some offxe
• In the civil law solemn contracts include " contracts of record"
(i.e. obligations proceeding from some Court of Record, such as a
recognizance, that is, an acknowledgment of a former debt made
before a judge or other authorised officer, and enrolled in a Court of
Record) and " specialities " or " contracts under seal " or " deeds.'
Not only are " deeds " signed but they are characterised by the fact
that they are also " .sealed." " Contracts under seal " are spoken of
as formal contracts par excellence, not .so much on account of their
solemnity, as from the fact that they bind by their mere form. The
expression is technical. It means that whereas a simple contract
binds in civil law only where there is " consideration " of some kind
(for instance, in the ca.se of promise, where the promisee in respect of
the promise does or loses or suffers .something or promises to do so)
a " contract under seal " binds by its mere form and without the
presence of " consideration." Needless to say, sucii highly technical
matters can be dealt with by us only in the most general way. Our
business is with the natural not with positive or civil law. Very simple
and intelligible accounts of these things can be seen either in Anson's
"Law of Contract" or in Indermaur's " I'rinciples of the Common
Law."
I
ON CONTRACTS 311
carrying with it the undertaking that something shall
be done ;
(d) absolute and conditional. These terms explain
themselves, but some explanation must be offered of the
efficacy of conditions as attached to contracts. A con-
dition concerning the present cr the past, exercises no
suspensory effect upon the contract. If the condition
is fulfilled, the contract is valid from the beginning ; if
it is not, the contract is invalid. Conditions concerning
the uncertain future suspend the contract.* Con-
ditions regarding what is certain in the future do not
affect the substance of the contract itself ; indeed, they
can hardly be spoken of as conditions at all. Their
sole efficacy is to defer the fulfilling of the contract, not
the contract itself, to a particular da}'. They amount
to an agreement that the effects of the contract will
begin on that day.
All this, however, supposes that the conditions at-
tached to contracts are possible {i.e. that the act is
possible) I and allowed b}^ moral law. Any contract
made under a condition which is either impossible or
evil is null and void in natural law and conscience, pro-
vided, that is, that the attached condition is reaUy a
condition and not the mere expression of some ad-
ditional obligation undertaken with the contract. J
The civil law makes certain special provisions with
regard to conditions attached to contracts, which
provisions cannot be examined here. Some contracts,
like marriage, it will not allow to be hampered by
immoral conditions in the sense that whether such
* We speak here of conditions proper, e.g. the purchase of a horse
if it passes the veterinary surgeon. What are known in EngUsh law
as resolutory conditions, e.g. a purchase liable to become null after a
week's trial, are conditions of the permanence of a contract rather
than of its validity. In these cases the contract stands until it is
declared null.
t Possibility on the side of the iparty is not looked to if the act is
possible, e.g. if a man has no money to buy material ; that is no excuse.
X Such additional obligation put in the form of a condition is spoken
of as a " mode " of the contract.
312 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
conditions are affixed to the contract or not, the con-
tract will be upheld at law just as if the conditions
had not been made.
(5) Distinguished * according as they have a special
character entitling them to a special name, or are general
in character on account of which they are not called by
a special name, contracts are divided into nominate and
innominate. Those contracts which are mentioned and
described in the list given in the following chapter are
nominate. The innominate contracts are all included
under the four general titles — do ut des, do ut facias,
facio ut des, facio ut facias.
* This distinction is Roman, not English.
E^
CHAPTER X
SOME PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED
We now proceed to give a brief exposition of some of
the more important kinds of contract.
Promise
Promise is a contract by which a man imposes on
himself an obligation in justice of doing or omitting
something, gratuitously, and in favour of another person.
If promise is to be a valid contract certain conditions
have to be fulfilled : (i) the promiser should intend to
assume a genuine obligation in justice of fulfilling his
promise ; * (2) the promise should be accepted, and
both offer and acceptance should be manifested ; (3) it
should be entirely free. Like other contracts, promise
can be invalidated either by error or by fear.
Promise falls through, first, if it is condoned by the
other party ; secondly, if things alter so that its fulfil-
ment becomes impossible or something quite different
from what was originally intended ; thirdly, if con-
ditions are attached and these are not fulfilled ; fourthl}-,
if through change of circumstances the fulfilment of the
promise would become a breach of law.
What if either party dies before the promise is executed
but after the contract is made ? We must distinguish
two cases. If the promisee predeceases the execution
of the promise, it lapses if what was promised was meant
to be personal to him only ; if it was meant in the
• In many cases all that the promiser does is to express his inten-
tion of doing something.
313
314 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
interest of him and his family the obligation remains.
If, however, it is the promiser who dies, then, if what
was promised was something which only the promiser
■could accomplish, the promise lapses ; otherwise the
obligation passes to his heirs. It should be remembered,
however, that the right which promise sets up in the
promisee is a jus ad rem onh% not a jits in re, and,
therefore in the case last considered, it would not be
right for the promisee violently or clandestinely to seize
on the thing promised.
Gift
Gift is a gratuitous transferring of ownership to
another. It is made up of three elements, first, the
external act of giving ; second, the intention to confer
ownership ; third, acceptance on the side of the donee.
The conditions naturally necessary for validity are,
freedom both in giver and receiver, the right to give
on the part of the giver, the right to receive on the part
of the donee, and finally the fulfilment of such conditions
as are required by the civil law for valid transfer.
The various stages representing the order in which
ownership passes from one person to another in " gift "
are as follows : ownership of the donor, act of giving
on the part of the donor, acquisition of ownership by
the donee, loss of ownership in the donor. These two
last stages occur at the same moment of time so that
there are never two simultaneous owners ; but the
third stages precedes the fourth in the logical order,
i.e. the order of dependence. The fust effect of the act
of giving is the setting up of ownership in the donee,
because that, and not the loss of ownership in himself,
is the primary purpose of the donor. But since two
persons cannot be full owners at one and the same time
there follows, as a necessary consequence of the setting
up of full ownership in the donor, loss of the same in
the donor.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED J15
" Buying and Selling "
The contract of " buying and selling " is a bilateral
onerous contract whereby two persons agree to inter-
change an article or commodity for a certain price.
In all ordinary cases this contract is effected by
ordinary external agreement between the parties, that
is, by the inner consent of each, and expression of that
consent by each to the other. But in some cases the
civil law requires certain additional solemnities, and
these solemnities may be necessary even for the validity
of the contract.
The consent once given, each party acquires a right
(jus ad rem) to the fulfilment of the contract ; but the
actual moment at which ownership (jus in re) passes
from one to the other depends largely upon the pro-
visions of the civil law.
Obligations of the seller.
(i) In natural law the object should belong to the
seller. Speaking generally, a stolen object could not be
validly sold whilst the real owner is alive. But the
civil law is empowered to make its own special pro-
visions in regard to propert^^ and it has introduced
modifications in respect even of this requirement of
natural law. Thus, with certain exceptions, a man
purchasing goods in open market in good faith acquires
in England a good right even from a thief.
(2) The seller should deliver the article that is bought,
or at least an article morally identical with it.
(3) The civil law sometimes imposes obligations on a
seller in regard to the revealing of defects in the article
sold. In natural justice, however, a seller's obligations
in this respect are very limited. A seller is bound in
justice, in the first place, not to charge too high a price.
He must fully allow, therefore, in his charges for all
defects. Secondly, he is bound to see that the contract
3i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
under which he takes another's money is a vaUd one,
and so he must see to it that no invalidating mistake*
creeps in. But he is not in natural justice bound to
go further, and he is not bound to assist the buyer to
make a good bargain.
The just price.
The price of a thing is its value expressed in terms of
money. Now, value is the capacity possessed by goods
to satisfy human desires or needs, and as desires and
needs are psychological, value is to a large extent
psychological, and varies with the desires and needs
of mankind. Besides being variable, value is also ver}-
hard to estimate because the needs of men are hard to
estimate. Any attempt, therefore, to determine the
value of an article by direct calculation of the needs of
particular men would be rendered exceedingly difficult
both by the fluctuating character of the test of value
itself, viz. the needs of men, and by the difficulty of
estimating, even at any one moment, the extent and
intensity of a human need.
Fortunately, however, in estimating value we are
saved the trouble of such calculations, because, for pur-
poses of exchange, the true test of value is not the
varying needs of any individual but the market price
of the article. Its value, in fact, is its market price,
and the calculation of market price is subject to no
such baffling conditions as beset any attempt to de-
termine value directly in terms of individual desire.
Let us see how the market price of an article comes to
be its true value, and how, therefore, market prices or
market values knock out all other values in buying and
selling. Value, as we said, is the capacity of an article
for satisfying needs. The value of an article, therefore,
is determined by the quantity and kind of needs that
• The-'c invalidating mistakes have already been enumerated, p. 30:2.
Wc should add that in justice hi- is bound to sec that there is nothing
in the object sold dan^i-rous to the buyer.
b
I
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 317
it itself is capable of satisfjing, not the quantity or kind
of needs which it happens to satisfy through the opera-
tion of certain extrinsic conditions. An analogy will
make our meaning clear. The speed of a ship is deter-
mined by the speed it can make in comparatively still
waters, for that is the speed that the ship makes by its
own unaided and unimpeded powers. With the sea
running against it this speed is lessened. With the
sea in its favour this speed is increased. It is only by
eliminating the differences in speed that arise through
the operation of these external and continually changing
conditions and causes that we arrive at the true speed of
the ship.
It is so also with values. To determine the true and
objective value of any article, i.e. its own inner capacity
for satisfying needs, we must eliminate differences
arising out of the peculiar subjective and opposed con-
ditions of different buyers, and these differences are
eliminated by sale in the open market. In the open
market the excessively high value which an article may
have for one person, due to the peculiar conditions of
that person, will be neutralised by the low value it has
for others, and the final market price of the article will
be the true expression of its own * capacit}^ for satisfying
human needs, independently of the operation of other
factors distinct from itself. The market price, of an
article, therefore, is the true objective price, and will
drive out all other prices when exchanges are being
effected.
This being the meaning of the price of an article, the
measure or standard of the just price may be easily
determined. It can be nothing else than the common
estimate! of the buying and selling communit}'. For
* This i.s the true objective value of the article.
t It should be remembered that this common estimate is a reflection
of, and determined by the objective value of the article in itself.
The value of an article stands in the place of cause — the public estimate
is of the nature of a result. But this result is the criterion by which
we adjudicate on objective value.
3i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
our present purpose it matters not at all how this public
estimate comes to be formed. It depends on a great
variety of causes — supply, cost of production, risk, the
scarcity or plentifulness of m.oney, the varying desires
and fashions of buyers, and the demand in which these
desires eventuate. All these and other innumerable
elements combine to produce a particular value-resultant
in things, which value-resultant expresses itself in the
average price paid, i.e. in the market price of the article.
But whatever be the factors that combine to determine
the value-estimate which the public sets upon an article,
our present point is that this common value-estimate is
the test of the objective value of anything and of the
just price.
Two considerations suggest themselves in connection
with the public estimate as the standard and measure
of price : (a) first, that the public by whose estimate
the prices of things are determined is a very varying
public, i.e. it varies in extent ; {b) secondly, that the
price determined by their estimate is for the most part
extremely elastic, {a) Where things are of wide and
common use the opinion oi the public at large will de-
termine the price. The price of rare articles will be
determined by the narrower community that deals in such
articles. In the case of very precious things the com-
munity by which price is judged may narrow itself
down to that of a single buyer and seller, whose agreed
price, whatever it may be, will be the measure of value,
and will be just.* The community, whatever may be
its dimensions, by which price is determined does not,
of course, meet and declare before sale takes place what
the price is to be. To a large extent prices and the
common estimate are determined automatically by the
conditions of the market. They are the prices at which
things actually sell. But these prices will always reflect
• This may easily occur in regard to the sale of things that do
not come into th«; open market, e.f>. precious stones, rare manuscripts ;
or in regard to tliings that have been withdrawn from tlie open market,
like old clothes.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 319
in a rough and ready manner the judgment of the
buying public and the true inner value of the com-
modity.
{b) We have said that the limits of market prices are
to some extent elastic. They are elastic because the
conditions of the market are variable, and because the
wants of the judging public alter. Still, limits do finally
come to be assigned within which the just price is sup-
posed to reside. There will be* a maximum and a mini-
mum price, and between these extremes there will be
an average or normal price, and in general, justice will
be satisfied with any price that falls between the higher
and the lower limit. Except for certain extrinsic reasons
a seller could not legitimately demand a price beyond
the highest limit, and it would be wrong for a buyer tO'
play upon a seller's needs by offering him less than the
lowest customary price. These extrinsic reasons just
referred to which, however, become operative only in-
exceptional circumstances, are chiefly two — the possi-
bility of loss to buyer or seller, and the prospect of
payment being long deferred.
The question arises, may a seller exceed the range of
the market prices on account of some purely subjective
or personal value which an article possesses for himself
(for instance, the associations which it recalls), or on ac-
count of the special value which the possession of a par-
ticular article will bring to a particular buyer, a value
which it has not for other people ? On both questions
the opinions of moralists are divided, but we have no
difficulty in accepting the solution given by St. Thomas
Aquinas. A seller, he maintains, must not exact a
special charge for the special pleasure which an article
affords to the buyer, or the special value it possesses,
for the buyer, and which it does not possess in itself
or for other people. On the other hand, it is open to
him to make a special charge for the special value which
the article has for himself. What now is the reason of
this difference in the rights of the seller ? It is the
320 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
following : a seller has a right in fixing the price of the
article to take account of what he himself suffers through
the loss of the article, and also of the benefit which
through means of the article he himself confers on the
buyer. Now on the first account, a seller can make
a charge for the special value an article has for himself.
Not so with the special value it has for the bu3^er. For,
on the one hand, this special value does not increase the
loss sustained by the seller, -and, on the other hand, the
special pleasure experienced by the buyer is not con-
ferred by the seller, it is not caused by the article which
is sold, i.e. b}- the inherent capacity of the article for
satisfying human wants — if it were it would be ex-
perienced by all receiving the article. It is caused b}-
and arises exclusively oiit of, the condition of the buyer
{utilitas quae alteri accrescit non est ex vcndente sed ex
conditiojie ementis *). And, therefore, in making a
special charge for the pleasure experienced by the buyer,
a seller would be selling that which does not belong to,
and is not conferred hy, himself (nuUus autem debet
vendere alteri quod non est suum). He cannot, there-
fore, charge for the special value which an article has
for any particular bu3'er.
ON AUCTION SALES
Auction is a sale in which articles arc offered for
purchase to many buyers in competition, the condition
of the sale being that the highest bidder becomes the
purchaser.
The auction price of an article is not the same as the
ordinary buying and selling price, which latter price
really represents the value of the article. The auction
price may fall far below the infimuni prdium or rise far
beyond the summum. The just auction price is deter-
mined by the highest bid, whatever that bid may be.
•"S. Thcol." II. II., LXXVIf. I.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 321
In all justice there is an element of equality. In the
ordinary contract of " buying and selling," this element
of equality is provided in the equality of the price paid
with the intrinsic value of the article. In the case of
auction sales the element of equality is supplied in the
equal chances afforded to seller and bu3'er, of profit or
of loss. ' On the side of each bidder there is the chance
of his succeeding in knocking out all other bidders.
In favour of the seller there is the equal chance of each
bidder being knocked out b}' the rest.
Obligations of the seller, i.e. the owner.
Persons attending an auction sale are supposed to
have their eyes open and to understand the tacit con-
ventions belonging to such sales. These conventions
are many, and it is consequently very difficult to say
what is allowed and disallowed in an auction sale by
natural law. Where a particular condition is known to,
and accepted b}', both parties to a contract no injustice
is done to either party.
Still there are certain rules that would seem to hold
good in natural law granted the absence of all conventions
to the contrary.
(i) The article sold should go to the highest bidder.
A reserve price may, of course, be put on the article,
but, allowing for this, the highest bidder should become
the owner.
(2) It would seem to be opposed to the nature of this
contract, if we consider natural law alone, for the seller,
i.e. the owner, to bid either directly or indirectly ; for
the same individual cannot be both seller and buyer,
and the express understanding is that the highest bidder
is to be the successful purchaser. But, there is one
exception which is hardly an exception, the case, viz.
of compulsory sale. In this case it is hardly right to
speak of the owner as a seller, rather his goods are being
sold against his will, and it certainly is open to any
VOL. II — 21
322 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
owner to try to keep by purchase an article which he
does not wish to sell. However, even in the case of a
voluntary sale, custom would seem to allow of the
seller * buying back the things put up for auction and^
as we said, the laws of auction are largely modified by
these customs.
(3) But it seems to us that there can be no doubt
about the question whether it is lawful for the auctioneer
or seller to make use of fictitious bidders, for purposes of
sending up the prices. Such bidders will not be re-
quired to keep the article should their bid prove to be
the highest ; neither do they aim at securing the article
for another, but only at putting up prices ; and, there-
fore, they are not legitimate bidders ; but the under-
standing is, as we have already said, that the sale is
amongst bidders only, and that the highest legitimate
bidder becomes the owner.
Obligations of bidders.
Bidders also are subject to certain obligations. They
may not do anything to hinder freedom of competition
by forcibly f or fraudulently preventing others from
bidding. An auction market is essentially an open and
a free market. If the auction is not open to all and
free, there is no equality between the seller's chances
and those of the buyer, the seller being in every case
at an obvious disadvantage.
The question, however, arises — when does the auction
market cease to be free and open, and when, therefore,
is injustice done to the seller ? We must distinguish
different cases.
• Either personally or through representatives. There is a great
diflcrcnce between these representatives and what in the next para-
graph is spoken of as the " lictitious bidder." The representative
of the owner, if allowed to bid, is supposed to aim genuinely at securing
the article for the owner. J*"ictitiou3 bidders arc appointed merely
to put up prices.
fit is :ill the same whether the force used is physical or moral.
I
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 323
(i) Merely to ask a buyer not to bid does not constitute
an injustice to the owner. For the owner or seller has
no right to the presence or the bid of any particular
person but only that it be open to each one to bid if he
likes. Moreover what a seller counts upon in putting
up goods for auction, what gives him his hold over the
buying public, and his equal chance of profit with the
bidders, is to be found in the need of buyers, and in
the fact that he who fails to be the highest bidder loses
by his failure — loses, that is, by not obtaining the
article of which he is in need. In the present case the
man who waives, in favour of a friend, his right to bid,
is still a needer and a loser,- and thus the seller's hold
upon and equality with the public is not diminished in
the least. They that prefer friendship (the owner may
console himself with the thought) to the chance of an
easy bargain must suffer for their ill-judged preference.
(2) What, however, if bidders, instead of merely waiv-
ing their chances of a good bargain, agree and conspire
together not to bid, for the sake of keeping down the
prices, or not to bid beyond a certain price ?
This problem is answered differently by different
writers. Our own view is as follows : (a) as long as
the market is still open and free, as long as it is not con-
trolled or constituted by those who conspire to stand
aside, the requirements of justice are substantially
fulfilled. If two out of forty people conspire that each
in turn should stand aside so as to increase the other's
chances of an easy purchase, then since the market is
still open, and the bids may reach any level, and since
in addition, the person who agrees to stand aside is so
far a loser just as in the case last considered, it would
seem that the essentials of the . auction contract are
substantially fulfilled.
(6) What, however, if those who conspire to keep down
prices control or nearly control the market ? What
if, practically speaking, there are only a few possible
buyers, the article to be sold being one of great price ?
324 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
May these lawfully conspire that one only should bid,
or that the other bidders should not go beyond a certain
amount ? Again we have to make the important
distinction already explained. If in this small market
four out of the live bidders agree freely and unselfishl}^
to waive their right out of friendship for the fifth, and
thus relinquish, with, of course, nothing but loss and
suffering to themselves, their chance of a bargain most
earnestly desired by each, we cannot see that they have
done anything more than use their right to bid or not
to bid — a right which is possessed by any member of
the buying public. Here again those elements of equality
which constitute the justice of the auction contract
are preserved — the equal chances of profit and of loss
on either side. The seller loses, but the possible buyers
lose also * by not obtaining the article or any equivalent.
Quite different, however, is the case in which buyers
who control the market agree to stand out and to keep
down the price with advantage to themselves, the
compact being either that the present winner will stand
aside another time in their favour, or that a private
re-auctioning of the article will take place amongst
the members of the ring, or that the spoils will be divided
it the article should be re-sold. In this case a grave
injustice is done to the seller. For, in the first place,
the market is no longer open and free, each party having
bound himself and all the rest, the winner also sharing
in the compact, by an onerous bilateral contract to
abstain from bidding. f But a free market is essential
in the auction contract. vSecondly, the seller in this case
must always be at a disadvantage, the buyers, even
those who abstain, must always have the advantage,
* All but the winner, who, however, is not the cause of the low
I)ricc rcalisicd. It is thos^c who stand out of the bidding who bring
down the price.
t On the other hiind where the four members abstained o t of
friendship for the fifth, they were still quite free o bid, and in
particular the winner, by promising and conferring nothing on the
others, puts them under no contractual obligation to abstain from
t)idding. The market, therefore, in this case is fully free.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 325
a condition of things which is very far removed from
that equality of opportunity between buyer and seller
which is of the very essence of auction sale. Rings,
therefore, to keep down auction prices are altogether
unlawful where they are large enough to control, or
practically to control, the market.
ON MONOPOLIES
Monopoly is the exclusive right or exclusive power of
one or a few to sell a particular article.
We distinguish legal monopolies from monopolies of
jact. The former possess the exclusive right to sell.
This right is bestowed by public authority. To the
latter belongs the exclusive ability to sell. They have,
in fact, secured complete control of a particular market,
though the right still remains with all others to compete
if they can.
Legal monopolies are either public or private, according
as the law concedes the monopoly to the State or a part
of it on the one hand, or to private persons on the other.
The following moral principles govern the formation
of monopolies : —
(i) Public legal monopolies are lawful where there is
a grave public reason for their formation, e.g. as a source
of public revenue.* Such public monopolies may lawfull}^
sell goods at a price somewhat above the summum
pretium, any excess being regarded as a tax which the
State needs for its support.
(2) Private legal monopolies are also lawful if they
are granted for a just cause, i.e. on the ground of public
necessity. Thus, patented inventions are legal
monopolies. Without them there would be no sufficient
incentive to invention. So, also, firms are sometimes
granted monopolies (generally for a definite time) in
connection with certain expensive and risky enterprises
of public importance, which would not be undertaken
* See p. 227.
326 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
^vithout the guarantee of success which a monopoh'
affords. Such firms, however, have no right to sell
above the summum pretium.
(3) Monopolies of fact are also lawful. It is lawful
for one firm to undersell others even where there is risk
of those others having to go under and disappear. It
is even lawful to undersell them so that they may dis-
appear * and that a monopoly may be established,
provided that it is not the intention of the prospective
monopolist to sell later above the level of the summum
pretium. In underselling others one only uses his right,
and the same holds true where one undersells to establish
a monopoly.
Such is the position of affairs in justice in its strictest
sense. A man may undersell others and a man ma}'
charge the summum pretium. But charity has its
obligations as well as justice, and the former are far
more stringent and far-reaching than the latter. Under-
selling with the object of ousting others from a particular
trade is forbidden in some cases by charity, viz. where
nothing but misery awaits the defeated competitors.
And charging the summum pretium is also sometimes
forbidden, in the case, namely, of necessary things like
food and clothing which the public is prevented from
purchasing, or can only purchase in insufficient quan-
tities, as long as the higher charges arc imposed.
Contracts of Chance f
These are of various kinds : (a) insurance, by which a
4)er8on secures himself against risk, such as the risk of
lire, by payment of ;t stipulated amount to another
• Provided it is not dom- liom any uncharitable motive.
t The contract of bailment ouj^ht naturally to be considered
lieforc those of chance. We pleatl as our reason for treating of the
latter here the length of our discussion on bailments in general and
the two special contracts of bailment, money-lending and the wages
contract, with the cognate problem of strikes. At tlie close of such
a long discussion the reader would almost have forgotten that there
were still special contracts to be considered.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 327
person who undertakes to bear the risk ; (b) betting, a
contract by which two or more persons lay wagers with
regard to the truth or actuality of an uncertain event, *
the wager to go to the person who hits upon the truth
or on the result that eventually occurs ; (c) lottery, a
contract in which on payment of a certain sum a man
is given a right to receive a sum of money or some
object of value on the chance occurrence of some event.
(d) gaming, a contract by which a number of people
agree to pay a certain sum to the winner of the game.
In some cases a man wins by his own efforts and skill,
as in cricket or football ; in some cases the game is
wholly one of chance as in some card games ; in other
cases the game is mixed as in the card game of Bridge,
where the cards are distributed by chance but the
successful playing of them is a matter of skill.
Gaming is lawful if certain conditions are fulfilled,
e.g. provided that a man wagers only what belongs to
himself, that cheating is excluded, that the game is
neither illicit in itself nor prohibited by law, that plajdng
is free on the part of all, and that the stakes are not so
high that one's family or creditors must suffer in case
of loss. It is claimed by some that the chances should be
fairly equal all round, so that if one was an exceedingly
bad player and the others were experts, the game would
be unlawful. We cannot, however, accept this judg-
ment. Superior skill, no matter how great, does not
make one's play unjust. The opponents know the game
and they cannot count on anyone being an inferior
player. But, as we have already said, a bad player (and
even a good player) should not be constrained against
his will to play. I
* Where one party is certain, the bet is invaUd, unless he makes it
clear to the other person that he is certain. In that case the winner
receives the wager not as a bet, but as a free gift.
t Through want of space we are compelled to omit all mention
of what are known as the subsidiary contracts, those, viz. which are
dependent on and tributary to the others, e.g. pawn, by which some-
thing is given in pledge for something borrowed.
328 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Bailments
Bailments are certain contracts by which goods are
placed in the hands of one who is not their owner, for
a special purpose. These purposes are chiefly three — •
to be kept, to be worked up or carried, to be used. In
the first two classes of contract the goods are left with
another in the interest of the owner ; in the third they
are left in the interest of the person receiving the goods.
■Examples are — of goods to be kept, deposit of goods;
of goods to be worked up, things left to be mended or
cleaned ; of goods to be used, the lending of a machine.
In none of these cases is ownership of what is placed
in the hands of another surrendered. In all it is supposed
that what is given over at the present instant remains
the property of the original holder.
Of the various contracts included under " bailment "
there are only two (both belonging to the third class of
bailments) which can be considered at length in the
present work, viz. loan and the wages-contract ; and
of loan only one species can be considered, viz. the loan
of money. These two special contracts we select for
special consideration not because they are more im-
portant or sacred than the others, but because of the
special prominence they have assumed under modern
social conditions, and because of the many difficult
questions of natural law and right to which they give
rise.
THE LOAN OF MONEY
Loan may occur in connection with two kinds of
things : first, things that are consumed in their use ;
second, things that arc not. Examples of the former
are fruit, bread, wine ; an example ol the second is
machinery of any kind. In the technical sense, however,
a thing is said to be consiimod in its use not only if it is
necessarily destroyed by use, but also il the use of it
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 32Q
necessarily entails its being lost to the owner, even
though in its use it is not destroyed.
Now there is this great difference between the loan of
things that are consumed in their use and the loan of a
productive thing which is not consumed in its use, like
a machine, that the former kind of loan confers no
right on the lender other than the right of recovering
the equivalent of the thing lent — it confers no additional
right of recovering something for the use of the thing
lent ; whilst the latter kind of loan confers not only a
right of recovering what is lent but a right to charge
something in addition for the use of what is lent. Let
us compare the two cases.
A machine has two simultaneous values for its owner.
First, there is the value of its use, the profit that arises
from its use. A machine, for instance, produces saleable
commodities of various kinds. Then since after use the
machine is still available, whole and unimpaired, there is
also the value of the machine itself as a substance.
For the owner the machine has alwa3's these two values,
and to fail to take account of either of these in com-
puting the total value of the machine to its owner
would be to represent the value of the machine as lower
than it really is. This doctrine that in productive things
like a machine there are two distinct values, making
up between them the full economic value of the machine,
viz. the value of its use and the value of the machine
itself, is briefly expressed by saying that in productive
things it is possible to distinguish between the use and the
thing itself. Suppose now that the owner instead of
using the machine himself lends it to another to be used,
it becomes plain that the lender is depriving himself of
the two values which we have distinguished, and that
the borrower receives these two values. In justice,
therefore, he should pay back these two values to the
owner ; first, he should return the machine itself, and
secondly, he should pay a charge upon its use.
The rights and obligations arising from the loan of
330 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
fruits and such things are very different. Fruits, and
consumable things generally, have one value only for
their owner, viz. the value of their use. Once used their
value disappears, for they have themselves perished in
their use. Their total value lies in their use. This was
their only value for the original owner. This is their
only value when lent. This, therefore, is the only value
which the borrower should return ; and the question
arises — what is the extent of this value ?
The question what is the value of things that are
consumed in their use, may best be answered from an
examination of a simple concrete case. What, for
instance, is the value attaching to a pound of grapes or
a loaf of bread ? The man who eats a pound of grapes
has had value to the extent of a pound of grapes. The
man who eats a loaf has had value to the extent of a
loaf. In general terms the value of anything, the use of
which consists in its being consumed, . is the value of the
thing itself ; it has not, like the machine, two joint
values, one arising out of its use, and one the continuing
value of the thing itself after use ; it has one value only,
equal to the thing which is consumed. This, therefore,
is the extent of the borrower's obligation in the case of
things primo usu consumptihilia, viz. to return the
equivalent of what has been lent. The lender in the
case of loans of this kind (they are known as mutuum)
has no right, vi mutui, in addition to demanding the
return of the object lent, to impose any other additional
charge. He has no right to look for a profit out of his
loan. We say vi mutui; for. though the contract of
niittuum itself does not entitle an owner to more than
llu' return of the equivalent of what has been lent, an
owner may acquire a right to more on other titles. A
man, for instance, has a right to compensate himself
for any loss Hustained by reason of the loan [damnum
emergens), for cessation of previous profits [lucrum
cessans), for risk or danger run [pcriculum sortis), and
linally he ma}- demand compensation for failure on the
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 331
part of the borrower to pay within the stipulated time
[poena conventionalis). These, however, are all ex-
trinsic titles. They do not arise out of the nature of
the contract itself. Granted that no losses are incurred,
nor risk run, the loan of a thing primo usu consumptihile
confers no title to special profit or to anything more
than the return of the equivalent of what has been
lent. Any such profit arising out of and based ex-
clusively on the contract itself, and not on some other
extrinsic title, is wholly unjustified.
We now come to the special question of the loan of
money. Mone}^* is anything that serves as a medium
of exchange. Whether money consists of gold or silver
or paper or any other material, its one function as money
is. to serve as a means for buying and selling. A pur-
chases goods from B by means of mone\'. With that
money B purchases goods from C. As money this is
its one and exclusive function, viz. to be a means of
exchange. f Now it is evident that a medium of exchange
is something, the use of which is to be given away in
exchange {distr actio, .secundum quod in commutationes
expenditur), | to be given for something received ; it is,
therefore, something which is necessarily lost to the owner
in its use, something which an owner cannot use and at
the same time keep, like machines and other productive
things ; it is, therefore, something which is consumed
in its use in the technical sense of this term.§ And since
* " Money is the medium of exchange. Whatever performs this
function, does this work, is money. . . There is no other test of
money than this." — Walker, " Pohtical Economy," p. 123.
t Writers add that money is also a measure of value. The addition
has no bearing on our present discussion.
X " S. Theol." II. II., Q. LXXVII. Art. I. It should be remembered
that usury was condemned not only by the mediaeval philosophers,
but by those of ancient Greece as well. See Grote, " History of
Greece," Vol. II. 20.
§ With his usual bold consistency St. Thomas explains that if
'money were used for any other purpose than as a medium of exchange,
[any other purpose that would allow of its remaining in the hands of
the user even after use, a charge could be made upon its loan. Thus
if money were sewn up and sealed in a bag in order to prevent its
I being spent, and in this condition was lent for any purpose (the same
332 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
in the Middle Ages money had normally no other function
than to serve as a medium of exchange, to charge interest
on money at that period demanding in return for money
lent both the original sum and something additional
for its use b}' the borrower., would be attributing to
money a double value which it did not then possess.
Now all this reasoning of the Scholsatic writers holds
true to-day as well as in the Middle Ages. Money as
money, i.e. as a mere medium of exchange, is still un-
productive, still something, the use of which is its con-
sumption, and, therefore, as money it confers on the
owner no right to special profit arising out of its being
lent. But money is now, what it was not in the Middle
Ages, something more than this. Money now is capital,*
it is productive, for it can he turned into capital f at any
might be said if money were lent as an ornament) the loan of it wouUl
entitle the owner to a special charge. It would not then be a thing
consumed in its use, but even after use would still remain in the hands
of the user. See " Quaestiones Disputatae," De Malo, Q. XIII.
Art. 4, ad 13 ; also " S. Theol." II. 11^ Q. LXVII. Art. i. In this
exposition of the morals of money-lending, St. Thomas, it will be
obvious, makes full and effective provision for possible changes in
the normal function of money, such as ocdurred when money, whilst
still retaining its original function of a medium of exchange, became
also a species of capital or a source of wealth.
* In the text above interest is regarded on its moral side as due
to the lender, the ground being the fact that money now is capital.
But interest can also be considered on its economic side, as offering
an inducement to the saving of money. Once a sufficient amount has
been saved for all future necessary purposes an owner of money will
not effect further savings unless he is induced to do so by an offer
of interest. He must be paid, by those who are in need of money-
loans, to .save. This payment, i.e. the interest one receives, might be
regarded as compensation for the .sacrifice entailed in not spending
one's money.
t It may be objected that in the Middle Ages money could be
turned into furniture and ornaments and other things that werc-
not consumed in their use. Might not interest, therefore, be charged
on money as representing these things ?
Wc answer that no such charge could be made. For furniture
and ornaments and sucli things are ordinarily bought to be kept ;
money is convertible into them as things ordinarily to be kept ; and
a.s long as a person keeps these things their u.sc is not distinct from
the things tlicmselvcs nor are they a source of profit. No doubt
furniture and ornaments could be made a source of profit in 011 1
way, i.e. by Iftidmg them ; for, as we have already seen, a charj;(
can be made for the loan of these things. But as kept they are not ;i
sourc*' of profit, and normally they were bought to be kept. In this
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 333
moment, by the simplest of processes, and at no cost.
In the Middle Ages capital was not on the market. At
that period the only kind of capital worth talking about
was land, and land was not in the market. At that
period, therefore, money could not be turned into capital,
So easily on the other hand is money turned into capital
at present that each is ordinarily spoken of in terms of
the other. Although money is not, in specie, the same
thing as a railway or a mine or a business concern or
any of the other kinds of capital, yet he who has money
is said to be possessed of capital ; and on the other
hand a railway or a mine is ordinarily spoken of as
stock, i.e. it is spoken of in terms of its money-value
just as if it consisted of so many sovereigns or pound
notes. He, therefore, who at present has mone^^ has
capital, and consequently when money is lent a charge
can be made for the loan of it just as for the loan of
any other productive thing.*
The just rate of interest.
The rate of interest is determined by the market, just
like the price of any other commodity, and it is always law.ul
to charge the market price. There will, of course, be a
sutnmum and an infimum prctium for money just as for other
commodities, and justice is observed as long as a lender does
not exceed the siimmum pretium.
The market rate of interest is formed in the same wa}' as
they differ radically from machinery. A machine can be kept
and yet used as a source of profit. This is the normal and chief
function of a machine — to produce and to be a source of profit.
Whilst, therefore, money as convertible into a machine is convertible
into something which is normally a source of profit to its owner,
money as convertible into furniture is convertible into what is not
ordinarily a source of profit to its owner. In the first case, therefore,
money carries with it a claim to interest ; in the second case it does not.
* The theory expounded in the text above on the ground of
interest and on the difference between the mediaeval system and
our own is fully confirmed in an able discussion on \he mediaeval
doctrine of interest in W. J. Ashley's " An Introduction to Englisih
Economic History and Theory," Vol. I. p. 148. On interest as com-
pensation for the sacrifice involved in saving and as an inducement
to save (referred to in our note, p. 332) see T. N. Carver, " The Dis-
tribution of Wealth," ch. vi.
I
334 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
other prices. It depends chiefly on the profits accruing
from the different kinds of capital. Money is lent for the
purchase of capital and stands for capital, and its price
will naturally vary with the productiveness of capital. The
market price takes little account of risks. The value of
risks is a thing for the individual lender altogether.
The market rate of money varies just like ordinary prices,
and it would be exceedingly difficult to fix on any general
limit which could never be exceeded. In a particular country
and at a particular time it might reach a very high figure —
in others it might stand very low. But the market rate, at
whatever level it stands, is the just rate, just as the market
price is the just price. It is, of course, possible for the
civil powers to fix a rate of interest to be in no case exceeded,
and then the price which is settled by government should be
regarded as knocking out all others. But the natural
determinant of the rate of interest is the market or the
quoted price.
THE WAGES-CONTRACT
The wages-contract is a contract by which one man's
service or labour is loaned out to another for a definite
salary or wage.
The object of this contract is the employee's labour,
his energies, or, as a thing of economic value, himself.
The employee places himself at the disposal of his
employer to be used for the employer's interest, and
for this loan of himself and his energies he receives a
certain salary or wage.
In its widest sense this contract covers all the fields
of human labour, that of skilled and unskilled men, the
labour of carpenter, clerk, doctor, and cabinet minister.
In all these the labour of the individual is put up for
sale or hire. But in its narrower sense this term labour-
or wages-contract is used to signify the contract entered
into between the master or the capitalist and those of
his employees who are in receipt of a daily or weekly
wage. It is in this sense that wc shall employ the term
in our present discussion.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 333
The nature of the wages-contract.
Capitalist and labourer must stand to each other in
one or other of two relations. The labourer may work
with the capitalist as a partner or he may work for him
as a wage-earner. In the first case the labourer would
be supposed to supply the necessary labour just as the
capitalist supplies the necessary capital, and both would
share in the profits according to the relative value of
their respective contributions to the work effected by
their joint efforts.
But this first system has disadvantages for the labourer
that are at once manifest and unavoidable. In a factory
employing three thousand hands the share of the profits
falling to each labourer (no matter how favourable the
terms of the contract) will not make him a rich man in
the sense in which the capitalist at present is rich. He
can never possess very much money of his own, and
never can command credit to any but an insignificant
degree ; and, therefore, to keep a labourer out of hia
money for six or twelve months would practically mean
leaving him and his family without the necessaries of
life during that period. Consequently the labourer
must receive his money at regular and brief intervals
if he is to be in a position to meet his daily want?*
Besides, there is the element of risk. The labourer
cannot afford to work for a whole year for a reward
which is purely hypothetical. At any time disquieting
circumstances may arise or accidents may happen.
Fires may destroy, wars may break out, depreciation in
the value of a manufactured article may occur, the
prices of raw material may rise, defaulters may abscond,
debtors may go under, and the consequence ra^y be
the total disappearance of the anticipated profits or
their serious diminution. In that case a labourer who
is a partner will have given his labour for nothing or
for very little, and disaster will be the result for himself
and his familv.
•336 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
From all this it will be evident that the position of
partner in a commercial concern is attended by incon-
veniences and risks which a rich man may face with
some degree of equanimity but which are wholly un-
suited to the needs and resources of the average work-
man. A workman must receive the full reward of his
labour at regular and brief intervals, and he must be
assured of a standard and definite income whether the
profits of the concern to which he is attached go up or
down, or even if they disappear altogether. These are
the two conditions without which the lives of mo«t
workmen would be insupportable, and it is these two
conditions that constitute the second cf the two systems
referred to above — the wages-system, and the wages-
contract. A wage-earner is one who hires out his
labour to another and receives in return, at regular and
brief intervals, a definite and assured amount not
dependent on the varying fortunes of the concern by
which he is employed.
The relation of workman and capitalist then, under
the wages-system is easily understood. The capitalist
gets the net profits be they great or be they small. The
labourer gets a fixed weekly wage. What is meant by
the net profits ? They are those profits that remain
after all expenses have been paid. These expenses
are many. They include the rents of grounds and
buildings, the interest on borrowed money, the price
of raw materials ; and they include also the wages-bill
of the workman. All these things have to be counted
in and paid before the net profits falling to the capitalist
can be computed or appropriated. They are the first
charges on the concern, they come before the profits,
they are independent of the profits ; the profits, on the
contrary, depend on them. Herein is much food for
thought for the capitalist class. It is the capitalist
who takes the risk of a business. But the risk is not
without its advantages, for the capitalist gets the profits,
too. The bargain is — " to you (the workman) an
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 337
assured weekly wage ; to me the profits and the risks.
If the profits are high they belong to me. You cannot
complain of this, because if the profits are low or dis-
appear altogether it is I who am the loser." It is a
fair bargain, but its terms must be observed most
rigorously, not by the workman only, but by the capitalist
as well. The capitalist engages to pay his workmen a
fixed and a just wage. He cannot, when the profits
begin to decline, reduce his workmen's wage on the
ground that the concern is poor and cannot afford to
pay the stipulated wage. The capitalist must pay the
stipulated wage as long as there is anything wherewith
to pay. The capitalist cannot have it both ways. He
cannot make his own of the increased profits when
profits rise, and put the loss on the labourer when they
fall. It must be either one thing or the other — a partner-
ship-contract giving the workman part ownership of the
concern and of the net profits, or a wages-contract
securing him the full stipulated weekly wage,*
But the obligations of the capitalist do not stop at
continuing the stipulated wage even when profits decline.
The wage which is paid to the labourer is supposed to
be just. Opinions vary as to the question what it is
that constitutes the just wage. But there can be no
difference of opinion as to the capitalist's obligation to
pay a just wage. And capitalists themselves fully
recognise this obligation. Now a wage that is just and
equitable at one period or in one set of circumstances
may not be just and equitable at another. The cost
of living, for instance, may be greater at one period
than at another. If, therefore, it should happen that
the wages paid to, and accepted by, workmen ceased
for any reason to reach the level of the just wage, for
instance, because it was no longer a living wage, it be-
* A combination of these two methods has been recommended.
But in so far as the wages system is adopted, all that we have said
holds good even in the case of the combined method. Wages are
a first charge on the receipts and must be allowed for before profits
are computed.
VOL. II — 22
338 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
comes the duty of the capitaUst to raise the wages of
his workmen to the level required by justice, irrespective
of whether the profits of the concern are high or low
or whether some shareholder capitalists might as a
result be left without their dividend. It is not merely
the wage of the labourer that constitutes, as we have
said, a first charge on an industry, and that requires to
be allowed for and paid before the net profits begin to
be computed, but the jtist wage of the labourer, for no
other wage has a right to be considered as fulfilling the
terms of the contract which we are here discussing.
The conclusion to which this discussion leads is as
follows : capitalists who deny an increase of wages to
their men when such increase in manifestly necessary
in order to bring wages up to the just level,* or who
deny it until work is struck by the labourers, are guilty
of a gross injustice to their men. The strike is a very
disastrous thing, disastrous particularly for the labourer ;
and capita,lists, who, rather than raise the men's wages
of their own accord, will permit a strike to occur are
guilty of a two-fold injustice, first, the injustice of with-
holding a just wage ; and secondly, the injustice of
compelling the men to undergo great misery in defence
of what is their clear right.
But there is a duty on the other side also. We have
seen what the wages-contract is. To the workmen a
fixed and a just wage, to the capitalist the varying profits.
The workmen, therefore, should not clamour for an
increase of wages as soon as the profits rise. They
have a right to a share in the risen profits in one case
only, the case, viz. in which the increased profits are
due to a large extent to increased work put on the work-
men. If their hours and the intensity of the work
remain the same, any increase occurrmg in the profits
of the concern should be regarded as portion of the
• Of course it is only the "real " wage that coiiiiLs for the workman,
i.e. the wa^c considered from tlic point of view of its actual purchasing
power. 'J'lic labourer has a ri(jht to a just real wage.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 339
capitalist's chances. The workman cannot have it both
ways any more than the capitalist. He cannot expect
the capitalist to shoulder all the losses and then to
divide the increased profits with his employees. The
essential conditions of the wages-contract hold for one
side as well as for the other.
This does not mean that the wages of labour should
be regarded as static, that they should not advance as
the profits of industry increase all over the world, that
the workman has not the same right as other people
to share in the advancing prosperity of the race at large.
Those increases in profits to which we said the workman
should not lay claim are temporary increases, or increases
occurring in particular firms and due to particular and
transient causes. To these, as we said, the capitalist
has an exclusive right.* But the workman has a full
right to some share in the increasing wealth of the
world at large, and in particular to those permanent
increases in the profits of industry that are of general
occurrence, and that form such a large and important
part of what we speak of as the increasing prosperity
of the race.
In the first place the workman has a right in legal
justice to a share in this advancing wealth of the world.
The first law of legal justice is that the interests of the
parts should be subordinated to the interest of the
whole. Capitalists, therefore, have no right so to make
use of their position as directors and employers of labour
as to prevent advancement in the general welfare whilst
enriching themselves. But with a poor and miserable
proletariat, a proletariat that must still remain im-
poverished, and, therefore, backward and ignorant, and
wanting in all the refinements of life, whilst the rest of
the world increases its wealth and progresses in everj'^
department of human activity, it cannot be said that
* because he runs all the risk. But where the increased profits are
permanent and universal, no risk is run by the capitalist, and there-
fore the rule of the ordinary wages contract (to the capitalist all the
chances, to the workman a fixed wage) does not apply.
340 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the welfare of the whole body politic is increased. In
any organism the welfare of the whole depends on the
welfare not of one but of all the parts. And it is to be
remembered that whilst the capitalist class is one part
only, and small in comparison with the others, the
proletariat constitutes the far greater portion of the
human race. Labour, therefore, has a right in legal
justice to a share in the world's increasing wealth.
But workmen have a right to share in the general
progress of industry and the increasing prosperity of
the race not in legal justice onl3% but in commutive
justice also ; and for the following reasons : —
{a) The workman has a right to a fnir living wage.
But the living wage is largely determined by the standard
of living, and, therefore, as this standard rises, the work-
man's wage should rise correspondingly. Now, that the
workman's standard of living advances nb the profits of
industry rise, is shown in the following way. In any
community the standard of living in one part must to
some degree depend on and reflect the standard in the
other parts. If one body of workmen eats meat it is a
grievance if the others can never touch it. If scime
dress well it is a misfortune that others have to go in
rags. Where all belong to one society the parts must
necessarily react on one another and create requirements
in one another.
Now, the workman's standard of living is affected by
the standard of his environment in two ways : first,
the increased expenditvu-e and extravagance of the
rich will affect his standard of living in accordance with
that general law of interaction in the parts of the social
whole of which we have spoken ; 8econdh% and more
particularly, the necessities of the workman will be
affected by the heightened standard adopted by certain
members of his own body. For, it must be remembered
that in the ordinary course of trade, capitalists will
always be comp( lli <1 lo ( oinpoto with one another for the
best labour, and .l^^ i i onsrcjucnce the more skilled work-
i
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 341
men will be offered a higher wage. This higher wage will
raise the standard of living amongst the skilled men.
and not only amongst the skilled but amongst workmen
generally, even those who from their remote position
or from the nature of their work are not in a position to
bargain with the capitalist as the skilled men can.
(6) The workman has a right to share in the increased
prosperity of trade because to some extent he is the
cause of this increased prosperity. We shall see later
that the value * of labour, though primarily dependent
on the intrinsic natural functions of labour, is also to
some extent dependent on the products of labour. Now,
as industry progresses, the labour of the workman becomes
more and more productive ; and this increased pro-
ductiveness is not exclusively due to factors for which
only the capitalists are to be given credit, for instance,
the improved machines which they supply to their
workmen, but to other factors also ; it is due, e.g. to
the greater skill and effectiveness of human labour at
each generation, to the higher faculties that the newer
industrial methods rail into play on the side of the
♦ Page 349. The value that we speak of here is the value that
ought to be recognised by capitalists, the value which belongs to
the labourer's work by natural right. Of this value economists take
often little account. For them the value of labour is the value that
is recognised and accepted, under the law of supply and demand —
the law of the " marginal utility " of labour to capitalist and workmen.
But to the workman's labour there attaches a value, as we shall
later show, that is altogether independent of the chances of supply
and demand ; and as long as capitalists and economists ignore this
rightful natural value they do an injustice to the workman. Economists
may devise methods for terminating the war of capital and labour
but that war will never cease until the moral rights of the workmen
are fully recognised, i.e. until it is recognised that there is another
element of value in human labour than that which the capitalist
finds it profitable to recognise under the law of supply and demand.
For an example of the " supply and demand " theory of the value of
labour worked out in its crudest form see T. N. Carver, op. cit. p 164.
Here the demand is represented as regulated by the (marginal) value
to the capitalists of the products of labour, whilst the factors regu-
lating supply of labour are said to be " the standard of living " {i.e.
parents of the labouring class will only bring so many children into
the world as can be reared according to the current standards of
comfort) and the " painfulness of labour " — truly an inhuman
theory of the value of human labour.
342 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
workman — the abilities that are exercised in the manage-
ment of the newer power-driven appHances being higher
than those that suffice for the manipulation of the older
and simpler machines ; it is due also in some measure
to the increased demand of the community at large for
the products of industry, and to improved co-ordination
in the markets of the world. The increasing wealth of
the industrial world, therefore, is not to be regarded as
wholly due to capitalist endeavour, and consequently
the capitalist has not a right to the whole increase ;
and though once the wages-contract has been made, the
workman should stand to his contract during the specified
period, still, in the renewal of the contract, periodical
account should be taken of the all-round permanent
advance of the profits of industry, and of the part
played by the workmen in securing this advance. Of
increases in the profits of industry, as well as of the
general output of industry, the principle holds true that
" all production is group production ";*
As a class, then, workmen, whilst abiding by the laws
essential to the wages-contract, should share in the
world's increasing prosperity and wealth. But a mere
temporary increase, even though lasting over some years,
in the profits of a particular concern, does not of itself
justify workmen in clamouring for a higher wage, once a
just wage is agreed tipon by employer and employee |
• See also ch. vi. p. 196, note.
t A question of some importance which labour leaders sometimes
put to labour audiences with great effect is the following : why should
the capitalist be regarded as master and the labourer as subject ?
If one pays out wages the other pays out labour. Are they not,
therefore, equal, just as buyer and seller are equal ? And if equal
why should one be " master " and the other " employee " ? " You
say," said Mr. James Larkin at a certain labour enquiry held at
Dublin Castle, " that you employ the labourer. I say the labourer
employs you."
The answer to this question is very simple. In the wages-contract
there is equality between the two parlies in the sense that each gives
value for what he gets. liut the parties arc not equal as regards
the right of direction and control. The wages-contract is a contract
by which the labourer loans out his energies to the capitalist and
receives for this loan a weekly wage. Under this contract, therefore,
the energies of the workman are temporarily placed at the disposal
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 343
These temporary increases in profit may at any time
be replaced by losses, and since the losses have to be
borne by the capitalist alone, he should have all the
advantage of the increased profits.
THE MINIMUM JUST WAGE
It is important that the exact meaning of this question
should be explained. First, we are about to deal, not
exactly with the question of the just wage, which varies
according to the character of the different employments,
but with the question of the minimum just wage, the
least wage that can in justice be offered to any workman.
Secondly, we are dealing here with the case of the regular
employee, the man who gives up his full labour day to
his employer, and works regularly for the same employer.
As a matter of fact our doctrine of the minimum wage will
be found to hold true mutatis mutandis of the case of the
casual as well as of that of the regular employee. But to
take account here of the two sets of cases would com-
plicate the problem of wages exceedingly. Thirdly,
our present discussion relates to adult and able-bodied
men only. The reader can himself determine how far
the doctrine of the just wage to be expounded here
applies to the case of children, women, old men, and
those incapable of putting in the full labour day.
Fourthly, our discussion relates to the question, not
how much the workman ought to be paid, whether,
e.g. it should be fifteen shillings or a pound, but what is
of the capitalist, and the capitahst has, consequently, a right of
mastership over, i.e. a right to use, direct, and control these energies.
By virtue of the was,'es-contract, therefore, the capitalist is the master
and the labourer subject. The wages-contract does, however, give
to the labourer a right of control over something, but not over his
employer. It gives him a right of control over the wage which he
receives for his work. Of his wage he is given the full right of owner-
ship and u e, just as the capitalist gets a right of control over the
energies or labour of the man he employs. Herein, no doubt, there
is equality between the two ; nevertheless, as we have said, through
the wages-contract itself mastership lies with the employer, his
mastership being nothing else than his right to direct the labour of
his employee.
344 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the principle by which the minimum just wage should
in general be determined.
These preliminaries being explained, we now go on to-
the consideration of this important problem.
Various theories have been put forward at different
times as to the principle on which wages should be
determined, for instance, the " supply and demand "
theory that wages should be regulated like the price o f
any ordinary commodity, i.e. by the laws of supply
and demand ; or the " value of the products " theory
that the wages of labour should correspond with the
value of the products of labour. Both theories find
favour naturally with capitalists, since on both theories
the advantage obviously rests or can be made to rest
with the capitalist.
Take first the theory of supply and demand. If wages-
are to be regulated on this principle, then since the
supply of labour nearly alwaj^s exceeds the demand, the
capitalist will always be justified in paying a very low
wage, or even a wage scarcely rising above the bare
subsistence level. Men will always be found to work
for a bare subsistence wage when the only alternative
is that of unemployment and starvation.
Then there is the " value of the products " * theory.
This theory the masters turn to their own advantage
because they apply it only in cases in which the ad-
vantage must be to themselves. They apply it when
the value of the products decreases, and, therefore, in
such a way as to lower the wages of workmen. They
do not apply it when the value of the products rises.
If they did the wages of the workmen should go up
with every, even temporary, increase in the profits.
Besides, they never give the full value of the products
to the workmen, and they reserve to themselves the
right to determine how much of the value of the pro-
* As was shown in a note, p. iiS7, ihcsc two theories are not quite
distinct and independent. It is the (mar^'inal) value of the product.«i
to the < .iiiil.ilisl that rejnilates the demand for hibour.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 345
ducts should go to the workmen and how much is to be
reserved as legitimate capitalist profit. We are not
complaining that capitalists reserve some of the profits
for themselves. They have a perfect right to do so.
Our point is that the " value of the products " theory
is not legitimately worked out by the capitalists, that as
applied by them it is always to the grave disadvantage
of the workman.
But these theories are objectionable not only because
under them the advantage is nearly always on the one
side, that, viz. of the employer, but for the much more
important reason that they are intrinsically defective
and unsound. And they are intrinsically unsound
because they fail to take account of, or rather positively
contravene, the central and essential element in the
wages-contract. What that element is will be seen in
the following line of reasoning in which will be elucidated
the true principle and theory of the minimum just wage.
The central and essential element in the wages-contract
by which this contract is distinguished from all other
contracts, including even the other contracts of loan,
is the fact that its object is not an ordinary commodity
like land or an ornament or a machine, but a human
person. Under the wages-contract a man puts himself,
i.e. his faculties and energies, at the disposal of, or loans
them out to an employer in return for a certain wage :
and the problem of determining the just wage is the
problem of determining the value of the human person,
or of his faculties and energies. Now, as we shall
presently see, the faculties and energies of the human
person have a certain intrinsic and natural value
independently altogether of their value for other people
which is purely extrinsic, and, therefore, in judging of
the value of a man's energies, though it is right to give
some prominence to the extrinsic value of labour, its
value, for instance, for an employer, our first considera-
tion should be devoted to that value which is natural
and intrinsic to labour, and which attaches to it under
346 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
every variety of circumstances. Its minimum value will
certainly be that value which is natural and intrinsic to
labour ; but that value being once allowed there will
be variations of value to be considered depending on
the varying utilities of labour for other people. Let us
now go on to enquire in what the natural and intrinsic
value of labour consists.
The primary and fundamental factor of the value of
labour is not to be measured by anything extrinsic to
itself, e.g. by the products of labour, but by its own
natural function and end. Its value, in fact, is this func-
tion and end. In this, labour holds the same position
as any one of a man's natural organs or capacities.
The intrinsic value of the eye consists in seeing, the
value of the ear in hearing. If an eye were removed
there is nothing that could make up for its loss. The eye
has only one equivalent in value, i.e. its own function
and end. So also the true value of a man's labour
energies consists in the natural end of these energies,
in what they are meant to accomplish for a man.
What, therefore, is the end of our human energies,
and what the end of labour, which, after all, is nothing
else than the utilisation of one's energies ? Their end is
to supply the requirements of human life, the life and
interests of the man possessing those energies.* It is
these requirements that represent the true intrinsic
value and equivalent of human labour. The man who
gives up his whole labour day to another, puts at the
disposal of that other all those energies with which
nature has equipped him for the supplying of his own
needs. Therefore, the just wage payable in return for
the use of those energies, the only wage which could
justly be represented as the equivalent of those energies,
is a wage capable of supplying the same needs which our
human energies arc meant to suppl}'.! And the minimum
* Sec note- p. 34y.
t For an an.swcr to Ih't question — wlial if tlic products of labour
<lo not suuicc for this ? — sec p. J52.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 347
just wage will be a wage capable of supplying the minimum
■essentials of those needs, the essentials of human life. This,
then, is the first measure and test for which we are
.seeking, the measure and test of the minimum just
wage. It is a measure which is based on the nature of
labour itself and its essential function.
Let no one say that this measure is indeterminate,
that it lets the capitalist in for any charges which the
labourer may care to put upon him. The essentials of
human life are perfectly understood by even the poorest
person. They include more than the essentials of the
vegetative or the merely animal life — more than mere
food. They are the essentials of human life as human.
They are wider also than the needs of savages. They
cover the essentials of civilised existence. They include,
therefore, not only a sufficiency of food, but also
decent habitation, decent clothing, some recreation and
a sufficiency of rest. To pay in return for the use of a
man's whole labour day * just what will feed him for
that day is to treat him as a beast of burden and not
as a man. The " pay " of the beast of burden is its
daily food.
The " personal " and the " family " wage.
But the problem of the minimum just wage carries
lis farther still. The question suggests itself — are the
needs which the minimum wage must be capable of
supplying the personal needs of the employee only, or
do they also include the needs of the workman's family ?
In other words, is the minimum just wage a " personal "
wage only or a " famih' " wage ? To this question we
* We use this expression, " a man's whole labour day," advisedly.
In answer to our argument capitalists might suggest that what they
employ is not a man's whole labour, but a portion of it only, ten or
twelve hours out of the twenty-four. We answer — they utilise a
man's whole labour day — all the hours that it is possible for a man to
labour. The man who gives up to the capitalist all the hours claimed
by the capitalist, i.e. ten or twelve hours, cannot undertake any other
labour in. support of his life. The capitalist, therefore, in this case
has appropriated the labourer's whole capacity for work.
348 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
have no difficulty in giving the answer which is in our
opinion the only answer compatible with natural law
and justice. The minimum just wage is a wage which
is capable of supplying not merely the essential personal
wants of the workman, but (with certain reservations
presently to be made) the essential wants of the normal
or average family.
{a) Let us in the first place apply the test which, as
we have already seen,* constitutes the supreme criterion
followed in the determination of ordinary market prices,
viz. the common estimate of men. That common
estimate is certainly in favour of the family wage.
" How could a man support a family on such a wage ? "
is the criticism ordinarily heard of wages falling below
a certain level ; and this criticism not only occurs in
ordinary conversation but is repeated on public platforms
and recorded in the public newspapers, and, so far as
we are aware, without comment or contradiction b}"
capitalists, at least of its main supposition, which is,
that a just wage ought to reach at least the dimension
of the family wage. And this common estimate of the
value of labour possesses the same degree of authority
in connection with the price of labour that attaches to
it in connection with the prices of any ordinary market-
able commodity.
(b) But it is possible to appeal in support of our con-
tention, not only to the extrinsic test of the common
human estimate, but also to reasoning based on the
intrinsic nature of labour and its essential functions, f
We saw that the natural function or end of the energies,
utilised in human labour is the 8ui)plying of one's human
needs. But equally natural and imperative with the
need of food and clothes and housing is the need which
• Page 317.
f Our n-asoning here will show that according to the view here-
expounded the family wage is due not merely in legal justice (i.e.
bccau.se it is re<juireil by the common good) but in commutative justice,.
i.e. it is the equivalent and just price of the labour which is hired out
to the employer.
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 349
a father is under to support his children. It is, first, a
need which a man is bound by natural moral law and
obligation to fulfil. It is, secondly, a need which he is,
as it were, physically compelled to fulfil, which every
instinct of his nature impels him to fulfil. A father is,
in the first place, bound by natural law to labour for
the support of his children. The capitalist, therefore,
who monopolises all that father's labour is hound by this
same natural law to pay a wage which will admit of the
fulfilment of this obligation. In the second place, as we
said, the father not only ought to support his children,
but must do so, is impelled by natural instinctive love,
to do so — he cannot help sharing with his children that
of which he is in possession ; and, therefore, to pay him
a wage sufficient for his own personal support only, is
to pay him a wage itt sufficient even for himself,* since
part of that wage will go to his children under the opera-
tion of natural forces and instincts stronger than any
external compulsion. f
This, then, is the extent of the minimum just wage —
a wage that will enable a man to support himself and
his family. This is the lowest wage that can, under
normal circumstances, be paid to an adult, able-bodied
man. But granted this lowest wage there is then room
for variations above this level depending on differences
in the quality of the labour engaged, on variation in
demand and supply, and on differences in the varying
* The point is of the highest practical importance. The man who
undertakes to feed a bird in possession of young ones, by giving it
just sufficient for itself, really does not give it what is sufficient for
itself, since nature would compel it to share its food with its offspring.
The parent bird typifies the workman who, having given his whole
labour day to his employer, is incapable of obtaining or utilising other
means of support. Such a man must necessarily divide with his
family w-hat he receives from his employer.
t Notice that it is only the natural function of labour, and its
natural ends, that should be provided for in the labourer's wage.
The employer need not take account of other needs, for instance, of
needs based on the fact that an employee becomes a member of
parliament. Neither must he take account of other relations, e.g.
the necessity of supporting the grand-parents of children. The
natural family in its strict sense consists of parents and children only.
350 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
values of the products of labour. These will all be
factors in determining the price of labour between its-
minimum and its maximum limits.
The meaning of the family wage.
It is important that we should determine how far
exactly this theory leads us. In the first place em-
ployers have the right to adopt a general line of action
in dealing with their workmen, and to pay, not according
to the varying requirements of each individual, but
according to normal and average circumstances only.
The wages of labour, therefore, should be such as would
enable a man to found a family, they need not be such
as would suffice for a particular family or for any number
of children above the average. In other words, the
wage demanded by justice is the absolute not the relative
family wage. Again, in fixing a father's wage, employers
may take account of the many employments open
to women and children, but only of such employments
as are compatible with the essential rights and dutiea
of women and children. Mothers cannot be asked to
do the work of men. They cannot, for instance, be
expected to work as chain-makers at the furnaces — a
work unfortunately in which women are too often
forced to engage — and though such employment is
possible in their case, it is not employment which is
consistent with the duties of mothers or the needs of
girls. Calculations, therefore, built upon possibilities
of such a kind are ineffective as exonerating employers
from paying the full family wage. Thirdly, employers
may take account of the many aids normally extended
to the poor by different public bodies and by the State.
In most modern countries education is to a large extent
free, workmen arc insured against sickness and un-
employment, and money is continually being disbursed
in one way or another. On all these things an employer
may calculate as possible supplementary sources ol
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 351
income. But a margin will, nevertheless, remain over
and above the purely personal wage which only the
employer can supply, and that margin it is the strict
right of workmen to have included in their wage.
Married and unmarried men.
The question arises — should the family wage be paid
to married men only, or should it be given to all adult
able-bodied workers ? Our answer is that it certainly
should be paid to married men. But the very same
reasoning that is available in their case would seem to
hold also in the case of unmarried men. For our doctrine
is that a man's labour has a certain intrinsic value
determined by its essential function, and that value
attaches to labour as such and in every case, since the
essential functions are present in every case, and it
attaches to it even though the complete functions of
labour are not being actually exercised. Whether,
therefore, a man is married or not, or is a father or not,,
he has a right to a wage which corresponds to the value
inherent in labour, a value which is determined by the
natural function of labour.
Besides, every man has a natural right to place himself
in a position to marry ; he has a right to save money
for the needs of a future family, and it is only the family
wage that can enable a man to do this.
Finally, in practice the distinction of married and un-
married in a wages account would be impossible. Men
doing the same work should get the same payment, and
any attempt to differentiate between married and un-
married men in favour of the former would be keenly
resented. In wages it is the normal conditions that
have to be taken into account, and normally all adult
men are actual or prospective fathers of families.
D.fficult es.
(i) What, an employer may ask, have I to do" with the
r""~ ""
352 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
have children or not ? I employ a man to give me his
"" personal" labour ; surely I am only bound to pay him a
*' personal " wage.
Reply. — An employer cannot possibly plead absence of
responsibihty in this way. In employing a father he
monopohses labours and energies that can never be divested
of their relation to a man's children. He necessarily, there-
fore, assumes responsibility in regard to these children.
Again, let us imagine the principle of the personal wage
everywhere adopted. It is certain that under such a con-
dition of things the families of workmen must die out ; and
then employers would be forced to call upon their workmen
to marry. The capitaUst class, the efore, has need of the
families of its workmen. The capitalist class expects the
workmen to marry and to keep up the supply of labour.
And, therefore, since having engaged a man's whole labour
day there is no other way of maintaining these families
except by the payment of a family wage, the employer has
a duty to pay such wage.
(2) A second important difficulty is the following : What
if the products of an employee's labour did not allow of the
payment of a family wage ?
Reply. — (a) If in any case it is unprofitable to employ
labour on a certain work the capitalist is free not to employ
labour. But if he employs labour he assumes the obligations
necessarily attaching to his position as employer, {b) Again,
this difficulty of the possible unprofitableness of labour holds
under every kind of wages-system. It holds against the
"personal" wage as well as of the "family" wage, since
in any system products may fall short of the amount of the
wage. Yet who would maintain that at least a personal
wage is not due to labour in every case ? (c) The same
objection may also be raised in regard to any kind of ex-
changeable commodity ; its value to the buyer may not be
equal to the price required by the seller. Yet who will not
admit that the seller's requirements arc a necessary factor
in tiie determination of the just j^rice ? [d) Lastly, the wages
of labour constitute, as we have already seen, a first charge
on profits, and should be fixed and allowed for before the
net profits begin to be estimated by the employer. They
should be fixed before the prices of the things which the work-
man produces are fixed, since the net ])r()lits depend on the
prices. In other words, the cost of labour should not be
determined by the prices of commodities, rather tlie reverse
is the case— tiie prices should be j)roporti()ned to the cost of
labour ; and it is for the prudent capitalist to look before-
PARTICULAR CONTRACTS DISCUSSED 353
hand and see whether he can get these prices, and whether
it is worth his while to start a business and pay the legitimate
wage in view of the prices which the manufactured article
is likely to bring him. It is the emploj'^er who should take
the risk, for it is he who appropriates the profits when they
arise.
These are the principal ethical problems that suggest
themselves in regard to the duties and rights of employer
and workman under the wages-contract. Our treat-
ment, however, of this subject would be incomplete if
we did not add some discussion, however brief and im-
perfect, on the question of strikes — a question which is
essentially concerned with the conditions obtaining under
the wages system.
VOL. II — 23
CHAPTER XI
THE WAGES-CONTRACT {Continued)
ON STRIKES
Definition of the Strike and its Chief Kinds
In a broad sense of the word a strike is any wide-spread
cessation of work. But in its narrower and more
technical sense it means mi organised cessation of work
on the part of a large number of workmen for the purpose
of securing the assent of an employer to certain demands
of his employees.
In the first place a strike is of employees only. A
strike of school-children is not a strike in the proper
sense of that term. Secondly, a strike involves cessation
of work on the part of a large number of men. An
agreed relinquishment of work by one or two has neither
the dimensions nor the importance connected in the
public mind with the notion of a strike. Thirdly, the
strike is a combined and organised movement. Any num-
ber of men might happen to relinquish their positions
simultaneously and in the same firm, but unless there is
agreement and organisation there is no strike. Fourthly,
in the strike proper the bulk of the men do not ordinarily
cease work with a view to obtaining employment else-
where, but rather with a view to returning to work
when the dispute with their masters is ended. Though
not an essential clement in the strike understood in its
broader sense, for, after all, the strikers might from the
beginning intend to leave their old and seek for new
employment, the present condition would seem to be
354
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 355
in practice a normal and inseparable accompaniment
of strikes, and in the public consciousness it even con-
stitutes their most prominent and disagreeable feature.
Strikers for the most part remain in the neighbourhood of
the works that employed them, maintaining an attitude
of opposition to their masters, and their hope is to regain
their old positions but on the new terms to obtain which
the strike is undertaken. We shall, therefore, allow
this fourth element to remain as part of our definition
of the strike.
Three classes of strike may be distinguished : first,
the simple or direct strike, in which a number of men
suffering from the same real or imaginary grievance
strike for the remedy of this grievance ; secondly, the
sympathetic strike, i.e. a strike of men in sympathy with
others, or a strike for the removal not of one's own but
of others' grievances : * thirdly, the general strike, or a
combined strike of all employees, not to secure the
removal of a particular grievance, but for the purpose
of exterminating capitalism altogether and placing the
means of production in the hands of the trades-unions
exclusively. This kind of strike naturally admits of
degrees according as the strike involves the various
trades of one country only or of all. In its complete
meaning the general strike is of the second kind.f
The Morality of Strikes
The question whether strikes are lawful admits of no
unconditional or universal answer, since the lawfulness
or unlawfulness of the strike depends on the kind of
strike which is adopted and the attendant circumstances.
* It is of many forms. A department of a particular firm may
strike in defence of one of their number or it may strike in defence
of another department. Again, the employees of one firm may strike
in defence of the employees of another and wholly independent firm.
t The general strike is the strike by which the " syndicalists "
aim at attaining their ends. It is, therefore, known as the
" syndicalist " strike.
356 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
We shall, therefore, for the purposes of this discussion,
consider each of the three kinds of strikes just men-
tioned, separately and independently.
THE SIMPLE OR DIRECT STRIKE
Every man has a full and clear right to resign his
employment at any time that he wishes, provided that
he has fulfilled all the conditions of the contract, for
instance, those concerning the giving of due notice to
his employer. But the question arises — have a number
of men a right to combine and agree to leave their
employment simultaneously in the hope of overcoming
the resistance of their master in case of a dispute between
employer and employed ? The two cases are very
different. For in the first case where only a single
individual gives up work, no harm is done to the em-
ployer, who normally, at all events, can easily find sub-
stitutes to fill the places vacated by his employees. But
in the second case the employer is gravely affected in his
business. Even under ordinary circumstances it is not
easy to find a large number of suitable employees in
the short space of time required to prevent interruption
of one's business. But the strike increases the difficulty
to an enormous extent. We may take it for granted,
therefore, that a strike means always considerable loss to
an employer, in many cases irreparable loss. Machines
lie idle, expenses accumulate without corresponding re-
turns, the normal relations with other firms are inter-
rupted, contracts fail to be fulfilled, customers go away
perhaps permanently, and the stability of the firm is
generally shaken,* The bad effects of a strike are often
perceptible even many years after the strike itself has
been brought to an end.
However, notwithstanding the many evils attendant
on strikes, and we have no desire to minimise their
* These arc the evil effects suffered by the employer. Later will
be considered the efiect on the employee.
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 357
importance, it cannot be claimed that the strike is
intrinsically unjust or wrong. The first element in the
strike, the mere cessation of work, scarcely requires to
be justified ; it is nothing more than the right of any
man, once he has fulfilled the terms of his contract, to
withdraw his labour and transfer it if he wishes to another
employer. Any man is empowered by natural right to
leave one employer and go over to another. At most
an obligation might arise in charity not to leave off work
where cessation of labour would put a master to great
loss and expense ; but we are here speaking about the
justice of the strike, not of obligations in charity ; and,
moreover, obligations in charity do not arise where
abstention from the strike would involve any kind of
serious sacrifice for the workman.
The second element in the strike is that of organisa-
tion and combination, and here again it is impossible
to maintain that the strike is intrinsically unlawful.
Generally speaking, what a number of men may lawfully
do, taken individually, they may lawfully do together,
and the same they may lawfully combine to do. It is
no harm to combine to do a thing which is not in itself
unlawful. Granted, therefore, a just cause or end, it is
the clear right of workmen to oiganise a strike for the
accomplishment of this end.
These are the two essential elements in the strike, and
in regard to them the question of justice can hardly be
raised. But serious and very practical questions some-
times arise in regard to the justice or injustice, not of
the essentials, but of certain common accompaniments
of strikes, one of which must be considered here. It
concerns the right of strikers to take means to prevent
other workmen (" blacklegs " — as they are opprobriously
called) from occupying the positions vacated by the
strikers, and also the right of strikers to put pressure
on their fellow- workmen to join in the strike. In
regard to both points the issues in justice are perfectly
clear. Just as the strikers have a right in justice to
358 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
vacate a position even at the expense of their employers,
so also outside workmen have a clear right in justice to
accept employment from any source that offers itself,
and strikers have no right whatever to prevent them
from so doing. The use, therefore, of physical violence,
or even the threat of violence against these outside
competitors is wholly unlawful in the natural, just as it
is disallowed by the civil law. So also, and a fortiori,
strikers have no right to compel their fellow-workmen
to join in a strike, to use violence against them, or to
interfere with their liberty in any way. These workmen
have a clear right to decide for themselves when, and
for the remedy of what grievance, they will go out on
strike ; they have the same right to decide against a
strike that the others have to decide in favour of it.
And, therefore, compulsion or physical interference of
any kind is a violation of their natural liberties and
rights.
But in both cases it is lawful to have recourse to
moral persuasion, and to every means that can legiti-
mately be regarded as falling under this conception.
For, whereas physical violence is always an interference
with human liberty, moral persuasion is not. Liberty
is violated where a man is physically compelled to do a
thing against his own jiidgment and will. Moral per-
suasion is an attempt to direct a man's judgment, to
influence his will ; and whereas the human body can be
compelled, the will and judgment cannot ; they are
not subject to violence ; they always remain in a man's
own power. The attempt to direct or influence them
is, therefore, never a violation of human liberty.
The difficulty, however, is to know exactly what acts
are included under moral persuasion and, therefore,
what means of dissuasion it is ])()8Hible to use with out-
side workmen and of persuasion with one's fellows.
Discussion, appeals, promises are certainly allowed.
Pliysical violence certainly is not. Neither is the threat
of violence, sinci' the same hiw tliat forbids actual
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 359
violence forbids also the threat of violence.* Midway
between these extremes stand the acts of reprehension,
derision, objurgation, and also ostracism of one's fellows,
concerning which it is difficult to give a definite judgment
since so much depends on the degree to which they are
carried and the spirit in which they are practised. Good-
humoured derision and objurgation it would be hard to
exclude totally, but even these when they become
liurtful and offensive are violations of justice as well as
of charity. Again, during a strike it would be un-
reasonable to expect the strikers to bear themselves to
the non-strikers as if no difference had arisen between
them, but complete ostracism, particularly if it outlasts
the strike, is wholly wrong.
Strikers may object that if their own fellows may
hang back on any occasion, and if violence may not be
done to blacklegs, the efficacy of the strike as a weapon
for removing the just grievances of workmen is reduced
to nil. Our answer is, first, that even if the strike were
rendered wholly inefticacious (which it is not) through
the absence of violence, the use of violence would still
be unlawful since, as we saw, violence is a clear violation
of the rights of workmen to continue in employment
or to seek vacated positions just as they please. And
in this matter we cannot afford to take lower ground
than the ground assigned by law and justice. The
strike kept within lawful limits is terrible enough in its
effects. But if strikers may regard themselves as free
to do anything that is necessary for success then the
strike becomes nothing but an appalling evil. If strikers
may have recourse to violence, why not to killing ?
And if the strikers may kill why may not the capitalists
also kill ? And the long-suffering public — why may not
they kill both ? The strike, divorced from law and
justice, becomes a weapon of universal destruction
* There are authors who allow indulgence in threats, presumably
of course, threats of violence, but apparently on no ground of reasoning-
Sec Lehmkuhl, " Casus Conscientiae," p. 454
36o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
instead of what it ought to be — a valuable though
desperate remedy for a grave human ill. Secondly, if
workmen cannot secure unanimity in their own bod}^
and in that body we include the whole body of workmen
including even the " blacklegs," then either they should
not go on strike or if they do go on strike they must be
prepared to put up with the weakness inherent in the
position of a body divided against itself. But certainly
such division in their own ranks gives them no right to
dispense with the fundamental requirements of law and
justice. The strike is only a combination of workmen
using certain means to get concessions from their em-
ployer. Similar combinations occur in other spheres
than that of labour. At elections, for instance, a number
of voters combine to carry a certain programme through
or to overthrow a government. But they have no right
to attempt to impose their will on other voters, even
though it is felt that through dissension a good cause
may fall to the ground or an old injustice be perpetuated.
In all such matters it is the right of every man to follow
the line that seems best to himself. If that right were
disallowed there would be an end to freedom in every
department of conduct. It is the same with workmen.
Dissension may or may not, in a particular case, be a
grave source of weakness to labour, but that fact can
never eradicate a man's inherent right to freedom.
The conditions of a just strike.
Though not in themselves unlawful, strikes are
generally attended by certain evil consequences, and
u man is not justified in striking in disregard of .these
consequences, except on the fulfilment of certain very
obvious and intelligible conditions. These conditions
are [a] a just cause ; [b) a proportionate cause ; (c) a
right use of means.
(a) A strike cannot be engaged in without a just
cause. For a strike, no matter how short-lived, is
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 361
attended by evil consequences of a very grave character
— consequences for the master, for the men themselves
and their dependents, and for the public at large. The
men who go on strike are indirectly responsible for
these effects, and a just cause is always required for the
assumption of indirect responsibility for consequences
that are evil.
For another reason also a just cause is required, viz.
that the cause which brings about the strike is the same
thing as the end aimed at in the strike, and the end
of our action should be just. A man cannot promote
a strike, therefore, in order to revenge himself on his
employer or to humiliate and weaken emplo3'ers as a
class. But a strike may be undertaken for a just wage,
or to secure a reasonable number of working hours, or
for some other cause of the kind.
But if a just cause is necessary' in the case of the
strike, it follows that the strikers should be aware of
the cause for which they are striking and of its justice,
otherwise their sin is the same as if no just cause could
be pleaded. But workmen can judge of the justice
of their cause in either of two ways — directly or in-
directly, i.e. they may make themselves personally
acquainted with the exact nature of the issues for which
the strike is undertaken, and with their justice or in-
justice, or they may rely on the judgment of their
leaders and make that judgment their own. In the
latter case, however, workmen should be in a position
to know that their leaders are right-principled men,
men of proved competence and integrity, and possessed
of such qualities of mind and character as will afford a
reasonable guarantee that the body of workmen will
not be led into any wrong or irrational courses.
The question, " what causes are just ? " is too wide
and troublesome to be considered here at any length.
Under the just cause are included such grievances as
low wages, over-work, unsanitary conditions of work.
In connection with the first heading, i.e. low wages, we
302 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
think that one important consideration ought not to be
omitted, viz. that a strike may lawfully be undertaken
not merely in order to secure the minimum just wage,
but also a wage above this level. The labour of the
workman, like other things, has its just price, which
price is found to lie between two extremes or limits,
the lower and the higher. Now, just as a capitalist
may, provided he pays a just remuneration, decline to
go above the lower limit, so workmen may, if they like,
refuse any wage below the higher, and may even go on
strike in defence of this higher wage. It would, of course,
be unreasonable if strikes were to be commonly indulged
in for the absolutely highest wage paid in connection
with any particular kind of labour. The strike is so
full of dire possibilities for everybody concerned that
insistence on the last farthing of the highest wage
would hardly be regarded as a sufhcient motive for
permitting these evils. What, however, we wish to
emphasise is that a strike need not necessarily be for
the minimum wage, and that a strike may be lawful
even though the wage demanded lies somewhat above
the lowest limit and even in the region of the highest.
(b) The cause of the strike should be proportional to
the gravity of its effects. We have already enumerated
some of the evil consequences affecting the employer.
There are others equally if not more grave on the side
of the employee, of his family, and of the public at large.
Some of these evils are physical and mental (hunger,
poverty, misery of mind), some are moral. The latter
arc practically inseparable from the strike. A strike
brings into exercise the most violent and terrible of
human passions. Directly it involves innumerable viola-
tions of charity. Incidentally, yet almost invariably,
it involves drunkenness, irreligion, loss of self-respect
both on the part of women and men, particularly the
former. In tinioH of strike reason seems to lose its sway
over the most normal minds, and the best and most
circumspect of persons tend to become lowered and
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 363
demoralised. If it is a criminal thing for capitalists to
■drive workmen by the exercise of cruelty or inconsiderate-
ness to the adoption of this terrible remedy of the strike,
so also it is most sinful for the workmen to make them-
selves responsible for these consequences without the
gravest cause. A strike undertaken for some light or
trivial cause could never be lawful. It must, if it is
to be justified, concern the means of sustenance or some
of the other things necessary for a proper human life.*
(c) Only means in themselves lawful may be utilised
in the conduct of a strike. These lawful means are
two-fold — first, cessation of work on the part of the
labourers ; and, secondly, the exercise of a certain
degree of moral compulsion on outsiders to prevent
them from taking over the strikers' places. Beyond
this the strikers may not go. They must not injure or
interfere with the employer in his person or his property,
and, as we have seen, they must not use physical violence
against the non-strikers or against those who attempt
to occupy their position. These, as has already been
proved, are clear violations of right and justice.
THE TRADES-UNION EXECUTIVES
The consideration of these conditions leads us to say a
word on the trades-union executives, i.e. those bodies which
control and administer the union, and whose function it is
to declare and regulate strikes. A strike is unlawful unless
the cause is just and proportionate, and unless the means
used to carry it through are in accordance with law and
justice. Before a strike is declared, therefore, the trades-
union executives should give the fullest and most careful
consideration to the justice and gravity of their cause.
They owe this duty not only to the capitalists but to the
workmen and to the public at large. Also when the strike
is begun they must use, and effectively use, all their influence
to keep the men in control and to prevent outrage and
injustice. From this it will be evident, first, that the
i'xecutives should consist of men who are upright, just, and
(iod-f earing ; secondly, that they should be men of tried
* See p. 347.
364 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
prudence ; thirdly, that they should be responsible to the
unions. A word on each of these.
A bad or conscienceless set of labour-leaders are a scourge
to society, and a scourge to the unions which they direct.
Being unrestrained by any sort of moral or religious principle?
they will rush a union into a strike without thought of its
justice or morality. Such men will often be moved by
other motives than sympathy with the men — vain glory,
the extortion of money from frightened capitalists and from
affianced societies, and they will ruthlessly subject capitalist,
workmen, and the public at large to any suffering for the
attainment of these ends. Besides, bad men are incapable
of judging of the issues of justice between one side and
another even if they were wiUing to do so. Their minds arc
distorted by false and immoral principles, and often they
are utterly devoid of a moral sense, that is, they are wanting
in moral perceptions of any but the crudest kind. They
are not capable, therefore, of judging aright, and should
not be entrusted with the function of directing the judgment
of others in a grave matter.
Again, the leaders of unions should be -prudent men. Ver>
often great and perhaps necessary social movements are
proposed and started by hot-headed leaders, men of immense
will-power and perhaps also of surpassing intellectual ability,
but wanting in caution, deliberation, forethought, reserve.
Such men, though necessary for the initiation of a great
movement, are quite unequal to the task of directing it or
carrying it through, and they are altogether unfitted for
the momentous and delicate work that so often falls to the
lot of a trades-union executive.
Finally, a trades-union executive should not be allowed
to assume the r6le of tyrant over the men, or be allowed to
get such a hold over the society as to leave the members
no freedom of action when difficult circumstances arise.
The members of a trades-union can never divest themselves
wliolly of responsibility for the courses of action pursued by
the union, and, therefore, tlie leaders of the union should be
responsible to the members and dismissable. The machinery
by which an executive is made responsible to the union ii>
a question tliat cannot be considered in the present work.
THE SYMPATHETIC STRIKE
The sympathetic strike, logically and consistently
developed, is based on :i very simple and intelligible
THE WAGES-CONTRACT
J"o
principle, viz. that whenever the emploj-ees attached to
a particular firm declare a strike, all other emploj^ees
should abstain from doing work relating in any way
to the business of that firm. Generally the work which
these other workmen are expected to avoid is that of
handling " tainted " goods. A strike occurs in a certain
colliery. No railway men, for instance, will handle
goods belonging to that colliery. If compelled to do
so they strike. Then other colliers refuse to dig coal
for this railwa3^ Carters decline to carry merchandise
to or from it. In brief the principle is — let any body of
workmen strike, and all other bodies whose work is
in any way related to the first must strike in sympathy
with it. A strike anywhere, no matter what its nature,
circumstances, or causes, is the bugle call which brings
out every " related " workman from his employment.
These later strikers may know nothing of the justice
or injustice of the cause alleged as the ground and
justification of the original strike. That is a matter
for the original strikers altogether. The great magnetic
principle of the sympathetic strike is that a body of
conrades in difficulty must be supported, that the
workers must have solidarity, that the fight of any
portion of the labour body is the fight of the whole
body. This is the full and essential programme of the
sympathetic strike, a programme perfectly clear and
intelligible and consistent with itself. Other minor
and partial kinds of sympathetic strike there are, and
these we shall consider at the close of our present dis-
cussion.* But what we have here to consider is the
full and complete programme of the doctrine of " tainted
goods " — the chief and essential form of the sympathetic
strike.
The question must now be considered whether the
^sympathetic strike as based on this doctrine of " tainted
foods " is lawful or unlawful. Our view is that it is
* p. 368.
366 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
unlawful and we base our opinion on the following
arguments : —
(a) It is opposed to the nature of the labour-contract.
The labour-contract is one in which a number of workmen
make over their labour to an employer, giving him full
control * and use of their labour, in return for a wage of
which they also have full use and control. What would
be thought of an employer who attempted to dictate to
his workmen how their money should be used ; or, more
important still, who sometimes withheld from them a
portion of the stipulated wage ? The money which a
workman earns — all of it — is his, and, therefore, he has
a right to receive it in full from his employer and to use
it as he himself chooses. On the other side also a similar
relation and right obtain. The workman hires out his
labour to his employer, thereby giving the latter full
use and direction of it, and, therefore, it is for the
employer and not for the workman to determine
(within, of course, the terms of the contract) what
work is to be performed and what goods are to be
handled.
(b) The essential and immediate effect of the sym-
pathetic strike is, not to bring the original strike to an
end in favour either of employer or workmen, but to
spread the strike, and, therefore, to make things more
difficult for other employers and workmen, and the
public at large. Rarely, if ever, has the sympathetic
strike any effect whatever in ending the original dispute.
But even if it did aid the original strikers such a conse-
quence would be wholly accidental and would be com-
pletely outbalanced by the essential and intrinsic effect
of the sympathetic strike, which is, as we have said,
merely to spread the area of the dispute and not to
limit or to end it.
(c) In the sympathetic strike there is no proportion
such as is always required by reason between the remedy
• Namely, such control as labour is capable of, i.e. the employer
can direct the labour of ihe workman.
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 367
applied and the effect attained. Carried to its logical
extreme it would mean a stoppage of work all over the
land for the sake of a single group of men or a single
individual.
{d) If workmen may strike in order to help other
strikers to defeat their employers, then it would be
lawful for the capitalist in time of strike to dismiss
even those willing to work in order that these latter
might compel their comrades to submit ; it would also
be lawful for capitalists all over the country to join
together, and close up every workshop in the land in
order that the workers generally might be starved into
compelling the original strikers to resume their employ-
ment, and on the masters' terms. In other words, if
the sympathetic strike is lawful, the sympathetic
lock-out is also lawful ; and since the latter is re-
garded, and rightly regarded, as utterly inhuman and
immoral, it follows that the sympathetic strike is also
immoral.
{e) We now come to the fmal, and we believe, the
most important argument of this series of arguments
on the morality of the sympathetic strike. We saw
before that no body of men may lawfully go on strike
without a just cause ; we saw also that they are bound
to make certain of the justice of their cause before
embarking on the strike. But the policy of the sym-
pathetic strike excludes the fulfilment of this condition.
For under the sympathetic policy there is no machiner}'
for securing even generally the justice of strikes, and
besides, under this policy workers are supposed to strike
not because of the justice of their comrades' cause, but
simply because their comrades are on strike. The original
strikers may have a very poor case indeed, but the
other workers must go out all the same. In the sym-
pathetic strike proper it is the fact that men are actually
on strike that determines the action of other union
bodies, not the justice of their case, and, therefore, the
368 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
sympathetic strike is wrong in its essential ground and
principle.*
All this reasoning relates to the case where the trades-
unions adopt the sympathetic strike as a regular polic}-,
and work it out consistently, the rule being that no
tainted goods are to be handled, that is, no goods owned
by any capitalist whose workmen are on strike. This
wholesale adoption of the " sympathetic " principle, as
we saw, is wrong and can never be justified under any
circumstances.
But a form of sympathetic strike must now be dis-
tinguished to which the reasonings just given do not
apply. We shall suppose that the policy of the sym-
pathetic strike as just described b\7 us is definitely ex-
cluded, that trades-unionists are not expected to strike
in sympathy merely because other workmen happen to
be on strike. But let us imagine that on a particular
occasion the men of a certain factory find themselves
confronted with a particular case of injustice, i.e. a
grave and manifest injustice is being done to some of
their comrades. They are, let us say, being cruelly
used by their masters, or they are not paid even the
minimum wage, or the work that they are asked to
do is positively inhuman. Here there is no question of
a refusal to pay the highest wage, but of a refusal to
pay the lowest, no question of a struggle for shorter
hours merely, but of a struggle for " human " hours.
There is question, therefore, of a manifest and crying
injustice, an injustice, perhaps, which is limited to a few,
* In the sympathetic strike the men would find it exceedingly
ilifficult, if not impossible, to know whether the original strikers are
right or wrong. Not only do they belong to different employments
but their work may lie in different countries. Neither can they
trust the judgment of the original leaders, since they neither know
these leaders nor have they elected them to their positions. But
whether it is possible to discover the justice of the original cause or
not makes very little dillerence in the case of the sympathetic principle.
Once a strike occurs in a particular factory all goods consigned to
that factory are regarded as forthwith tainted goods, and on the
mere ground that a strike is now in being.
THE WAGES-CONTRACT 369
but which cannot be removed except by a strike on the
part of the whole factory. The question arises, is such
a strike lawful, or must the few and apparently powerless
sufferers be compelled to make their fight alone ? Our
answer is that a sympathetic strike in the circumstances
would be quite in accordance with justice and the moral
law. What else does it amount to except the protecting
of a certain number of helpless individuals against
aggression and obvious injustice on the part of the
capitalist. But the conditions which justify the strike
in the present instance are very different from the
conditions of the unjust sympathetic strike which we
have already considered. For the present strike affects
the guilty employer only. In the other case even
innocent employers become involved. The present
sympathetic strike relates to cases of obvious injustice
only. The sympathetic strike which we have con-
demned is a strike undertaken in support of men on
strike for any reason. In the present case it is supposed
that the justice of the cause is directly and immediately
known to the strikers. This is impossible once the
strike begins to spread to other firms.
This limited form of the sympathetic strike is not,
therefore, to be regarded as intrinsically unlawful.
But even in this limited form the sympathetic strike is
always dangerous, and ought not to be undertaken
without the gravest consideration, and not before all
other means have been exhausted for securing for the
workmen a just wage and just conditions of labour.
The General Strike
The consideration of the general strike need not
detain us long. It is a strike undertaken for the over-
throw of the capitalist system. It aims immediately
I at making the position of the capitalist untenable, at
60 worrying him and so reducing his profits as to compel
370 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
him to hand over his business to his own workmen for
whatever price he can get, or for no price.
Obviously this strike is wholly immoral, wholly unjust.
It is immoral in its e7id, which is the extinction of private
ownership in capital altogether. The trades-unionists
have no right whatsoever to exclude individual private
owners from industry. What are the trades-unions
themselves but private companies, constituting not
more than a seventh or eighth part of the entire popula-
tion— in some countries not a twentieth part ?
The general strike is wrong also in the means adopted
for attaining its end. Present capitalists are established
owners, with all the rights of owners, and no man has
any right to attempt to injure them, to render their
property useless, or to worry them into surrendering"
their possessions to others. The " general " strike,
therefore, is wrong and immoral in its end and in its
means.
THE REMEDY
As long as government continues its laisscz fairer
attitude towards disputes arising between capital and
labour, strikes with all their attendant evils will con-
tinue. That attitude it is exceedingly hard to justify.
In all other departments of justice the State is insistent
in exercising her authority. Disputes as to ownership
and the rights of individuals she regards as her proper
domain when there is question of such things as houses,
lands, and chattels of various kinds. Why should the
rights of labour be excluded from her jurisdiction ?
Why, e.g. should it not be in her competence to declare
that a workman shall have a right to such and such a
wage, just as she declares he shall have a right to notice
before dismissal, or a right of way in land, or this or
that right under a mortgage ? It may be said in answer
that it is the business of the State to sustain the rights
of individuals, not to create rights much less to destroy
THE \VAGES^:ONTRACT 371
existing rights ; and that at present it is the right of
every employer to make the best bargain he can with
his workmen. We answer, government has a perfect
right not only to sustain existing rights but also to
determine and even to create rights. It is largely by
the authority of government, for instance, that railway'
fares are determined. Why not determine by public
authority the proper wages of labour ? Government
has immense power in determining and even extinguish-
ing rights and titles. She will extinguish, for instance,
a man's right to his houses and lands when there is
question of some great public good like the building of
a railway. And surely the exclusion of strikes is a
grave public necessity.
In every country there should be set up special
tribunals authorised to deal, and to deal compulsorily,
with all questions concerning the nature and conditions,
of labour, and these tribunals being once set up, both
strike and lock-out should be strictly forbidden as at
once unnecessary and opposed to the public good.
CHAPTER XII
ON INJUSTICE IN REGARD TO PROPERTY AND
ON RESTITUTION
The reader will by this time probably have forgotten
that we began the consideration of this subject of in-
justice in a very early chapter of the present volume,
and that of the three wa3^s in which it is possible to
injure others, two were even considered at some length,
viz. injury to a man's person, and injury to his character.
Before going on to treat of the third kind of injury
i.e. injury to another's property, it was necessary to
establish the existence of property and to enter into the
whole question of the foundations and titles of owner-
ship, together with other kindred but fundamental
questions, such as those of socialism and of contracts.
It is only now that we find ourselves in a position to
resume our consideration of the question of injury, and
in particular the question of injury to a man in his
property.
Let us, however, for the sake of clearness and com-
pleteness, recall the headings of our previous argument.
Any breach of justice or of a man's right is called an
injury or a wrong. Now a man has rights to three forms
of goods, and, therefore, he may be made the victim of
injury in three ways.
(i) A man has first a right to his life, to bodily integrity
and to liberty. A breach of right in any one of these
respects is to be reckoned amongst the gravest wrongs
which one man can do another. Restitution, however,
except perhaps in the case of deprivation of liberty,* is
impossible in these cases, as the injury done is irreparable.
* i.e. a man can be released.
372
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 373
(2) There is also the right to one's good name, which
is violated by slander and libels in various ways. In
such cases there is a grave obligation to undo the harm
that has been done and to restore to a man his good
name.
(3) Then there are rights of property and injury to
property, this latter being the form of injustice with
which we are specially concerned in the present chapter.
The rights of an owner over his property are the
possession of it, and the disposition and enjoyment of
property at the owner's discretion.
Now the right of property can be invaded in two
ways. First, property may be taken out of the owner's
possession and converted to the use and enjoyment of
the person who takes it. This we speak of as stealing.
Secondly, property may be destroyed or injured without
any material benefit to the wrong-doer. This act is
spoken of as datnage. These two special kinds of in-
justice will now have to be discussed ; but before con-
sidering them it is necessary to point out that in both
cases there arises a special obligation of reparation
which is known as restitution. Restitution is simply
the restoration of the original equality that existed
before the injury was done. I take five shillings from
a man, and thereby disturb the equality that originally
existed between us. There is only one way of restoring
the balance, and that is by giving him five shillings.
I destroy or damage a man's goods to the amount of
five shillings. I clearly have a duty of paying him five
shillings, thus as far as I am able restoring the original
equality between us. That as a matter of fact I shall
now lose five shillings and, so, am worse off than before,
is a consequence of my own making that cannot be
helped.
The duty of making restitution to him whom we have
injured by robbery or damage is too obvious to be
disputed, and it is not disputed, by any one. But it
374 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
will be necessary for us to determine as carefully as
possible when a moral injury is done, and also what
conditions are required in order that it should create in
the wrong-doer an obligation of restitution.
Stealing
Stealing means removing property from an owner
against his will, and taking over the use or disposition *
of such property to oneself. We use this term to include
all cases of wrongful taking, whether it be done openly
and by violence or secretly ; whether it be done directl}'
as in ordinary robbery, or indirectly, e.g. by false pre-
tences, by extortion, or by fraud. These various forms
of wrongful appropriation have their own moral signi-
ficance, but we limit ourselves here to what is worst
and most essential in them, viz. the wrongful taking of
what belongs to another.
The right of using or disposing of an object according
to his own wish is the first and essential right which
ownership confers on an owner, and no other can possess
this right of disposition except by the wish of the owner.
The thief defeats this right of the owner, and in that
lies the moral guilt of stealing. The wrongfulness of
stealing lies in taking under one's own control another's
property against his wish or without his consent.
There are three cases — rare cases indeed — in which a
man may take and use the property of another against
his wish without doing any wrong or injury. First, an
owner may sometimes refuse to dispose of his property
to another though he may be under a moral obligation
to consent. Now, if this obligation to consent is an
obligation in justice, he in whose favour the consent is
due may lawfully take the property owing to him,
against the wish of the owner. t If. however, it is an
• This includes giving it to another.
t For the sake of public order, liowevcr, lie; should, if possible,
first seek the aid of the public courts. Some persons might contencl
that in the case given in the text the thing which one ought to give
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 375
-obligation in charity or religion only, this obligation
will be no justification for taking a man's property
against his wish. Thus if I get a decree of a court for
payment to me of five shillings I may lawfully take it,
no matter whether I have the consent of the other party
or not. Again, if a debtor will not pay his debts, the
proper thing is to set the law in motion against him and
he will be compelled to pay. In that case his creditors
may take his property without regard to his wishes.
This is the first case where the goods of another may be
taken without that other's consent.
A second case is this. A debt is actually and certainly
due, but for some reason or other the person to whom
it is due has no remedy at law, the necessary evidence,
let us say, having been lost. If an opportunity offers
of quietly taking payment of that debt there would be
no wrong in doing so. Taking property in this way is
no harm, provided all the required conditions are ful-
filled ; but it is a dangerous process, and ought to be
restricted. This summary process of recovering one's
debts, since it has to be carried out not only without the
consent, but without the knowledge of the owner, is
called " occult compensation."
The third and last case in which a man may lawfully
take property against the will of the owner is the case
where one is in extreme need. The necessity to take it
must be supreme and it must be a question of one's life
or something almost equivalent to one's life, e.g. the
life of a wife or child. We may distinguish three degrees
of necessity — common, in which numbers of poor people
live, who are, however, very far from destitution ; grave,
in which a man is much worse off than the general
run of poor people but is not actually destitute. Now
to another is the property of that other, and, therefore, that the
present is not a case in which one has a right to take the property of
another but property which is his own. But on the other hand nobody
would maintain that the money which a debtor owes to a creditor is
the property of the creditor. He has a right to it, but it is not his
property till he gets it.
376 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
neither common nor grave necessity will justify a man
morally in taking another's property, though it will be
an extenuation of his guilt. But extreme necessit\\
when one is in danger of losing his life or something
nearly as valuable as his life, will justify a man in taking
anything he needs without the consent of the owner.
The owner in fact has no right to prevent such a person
from taking what he requires, and if the owner does.
prevent him he is guilty of injustice and will be morally
responsible for the consequences. That an owner is
bound 171 charity to relieve a person in extreme distress
hardly needs to be proved. If charity exists at all it
certainly urges one to relieve a man in extreme distress.
But extreme distress also places an owner under an
obligation in justice to extend relief, as was proved in
an earlier chapter of this work.* This obligation in
justice is based as we saw on three facts, viz. that all
ownership begins in occupancy, that a condition of
valid occupancy is that what is taken into possession
should not be absolutely necessary to others, and that
this condition always attaches to property even after
it has been taken into possession.
It is a clear result of the right to take property when
one is in extreme distress, that it extends only to as
much as is really necessary. Also if the person in ex-
treme need has property of his own he must sell it in
order to obtain relief ; if he cannot do so he may take
property from another, but is bound to make com-
pensation to the dispossessed owner out of such property
as he possesses or has a claim to at the time that he took
the property of his neighbour ; but no obligation of
compensation arises in respect of property which he
may later acquire through good fortune, since nature in
imposing her obligations at the time that another's
property is taken, knows nothing of fortuitous ac-
quisitions later ; her obligations at any time are built
on actual fact and not on future chance.
• Sec p. 1.35.
' PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 377
The Duty of Restitution
We have to distinguish three sets of obligations under
the head of restitution, viz. those arising out of posses-
sion mala fide, those arising out of possession bo7ia fide,
and finally the obligations of those whose ownership is
doubtful.
Possession mala fide.
I. A person who has stolen property and is still in
possession of it must hand it back as soon as possible
to the owner, together with all its natural fruits and
increase.
This is the first and most obvious duty of one who
wishes to restore the equality that was disturbed by
his act of stealing.
II. He who steals property is deemed to undertake,
pending restitution, the assurance of the owner against
all risk in respect of the stolen property.
This construction of the responsibilities of a person
who has stolen and keeps property is the natural conse-
quence of his intention in taking the goods. His in-
tention certainly was to use and enjoy the property in
every way * an owner could, and in fact to take the
place of the owner as completely as possible. Now it
is natural to place the disadvantages of ownership where
the advantages lie ; indeed, the advantages draw to
themselves the disadvantages or onera ; and, therefore,
the thief must accept the onera of property which he
takes into his possession along with the advantages.
And in this he is not in a worse position than a true
owner would be. Neither thief nor owner has any
desire for the responsibilities and risks of ownership,
and these disadvantages are accepted only because
they are entailed by the enjoyment of property. There-
* This holds true even though the thief intends to give the stolen
property to another. Giving to another is one of the chief privileges
of ownership.
378 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
fore, if a man takes to himself the ownership of goods,
natural law will see that he assumes the risks also.
Now one of the undesirable incidents of ownership is
that when property is lost or destroyed, or perishes
from an}^ cause whatever, the loss falls on the owner.
Nor will the plea that he has used all possible diligence
help him ; nor can he divide the loss with former owners
on the ground that if he had left it with them it would
have perished all the same — he has to bear the whole
loss. The thief is in the very same position. He, and
not the real owner, will have to bear the loss, because
by his own act he has assumed the risk as well as the
profits or advantages of ownership, and so the loss
cannot fall on the true owner, which is what we meant
by saying that the thief is deemed to guarantee the
owner against loss. If, therefore, the stolen property
is lost or destroyed or perishes in any way, the thief
will have to be at the loss, i.e. he will have to pay the
owner the value of it.
III. The thief must also indemnify the owner for all
damage incidental to the theft as far as such damage
was foreseen by him. The owner may have to suffer
losses which he would have avoided but for having to
lie out of his property. He may have to borrow money
at interest ; he may have to forego chances of profit ;
he may even be called on to account for the money, and
through inability to do so may lose his place or even his
liberty. These are incidental losses, and the thief is
bound to make compensation for them in so far as he
foresaw them,* for to that extent they are due morally
to his act.
IV. In case the stolen property has been sold, con-
sumed, or lost, the price of the goods at the time that
they were disposed of must be restored to the owner, and,
in addition, compensation must be made for incidental
loss, if any, suffered by the owner in not being able to
• It is ciioiigli ii Ik; foresees these consequences confusedly.
I
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 379
sell the property on more advantageous terms than the
thief obtained.
This rule covers all cases where the price of the
property varied during the time of unlawful detention.
As soon as the thief disposes of the goods the whole
price belongs to the owner, even though it was a higher
price than the owner himself would have obtained. If,
on the other hand, the thief gets a lower price than the
owner would have obtained, the thief is bound to make
good the balance to the owner.*
The bona fide holder.
It sometimes happens that an honest man becomes
possessed of property which he believes to be his own,
but which later he discovers to belong to another. This
is the case of the bona fide or innocent possession of
another's property. On discovering that he is not the
owner such a person has certain obligations.
I. He must restore the property with all its natural
increase ; but he does not insure the owner against
loss pending restitution — he is responsible for negligence
only.
II. If he has consumed or sold the propert}', he is
accountable to the owner to the extent of the value that
still survives to him from the property, but not further.
For, applying the principles laid down in the last section,
the ownership of the property in question always lay
in the true owner and so did the risk, the holder never
having intended to divest the owner of his property ;
and though as a matter of fact he did enjoy the use of
this propert^^ his enjoyment of it was simply owing to a
fortunate mistake. But the boyia fide holder is bound
to restore whatever is in his hands as soon as the mistake
is recognised.
III. An honest person who has bought property from
a thief without any notice of the bad title of the seller
* For a full discussion of the various cases arising under this head
f mala fide possession, see Lehmkuhl, " Theol. Mor." I. p. 586.
38o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
will have to restore the property, notwithstanding, to
the owner and then get back the price from the thief.
This is the rule of natural law. But an innocent buyer
is exposed to great hardships under it ; and, therefore,
it is usual for the positive law to protect, as it has a
right in natural law to protect, such a buyer against
the worst of these hardships. But, indeed, as long as
there are thieves at large the loss incident to stealing
must always fall on some innocent person, and so what-
ever devices may be framed by positive law it is some
innocent party that in the end must always suffer.
The protection of innocent persons from injury in all
such cases does not lie so much with the protective laws
as with the police.
The case of doubtful ownership.
Besides the two categories of persons in possession
of property of which they are not owners there are
others who are in possession of property in respect of
which they are in some doubt as to whether they or
others are the true owners. We cannot in a work like
the present go into this subject at any length, but the
first duty of a man who doubts in a practical matter
on which a decision must be taken is to resolve the
doubt by study and enquiry.
Again, if possession was originally obtained in bona
fide, and if the doubt which subsequently arose cannot
be cleared up by investigation, the possessor may con-
tinue to keep the property in spite of the unsolved doubt.
But if a doubt attended his getting possession, he
ought not to hold it against one who had bona fide
possession of it ; and if no one has this advantage the
property ought to be divided pro rata.
Damage
Where property is destroyed or injured, not taken,,
and the wrong-doer gets no benefit from his act, that
act is spoken of as damage.
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 381
It is clear that the doing of damage to another's
property gives rise generally to an obligation to make
restitution, but as this obligation does not always arise
it is necessary to examine carefully the conditions under
which this liability is incurred.
The first condition is that the damage should be a
human act {actus humanus, not actus hominis) ; in
other words, the damage should be not accidental or
due to a mistake, but malicious. It is necessary that
there should be some moral fault. If a man in doing
damage does not know what he is doing, or does not
know he is doing wrong to another person, he cannot
be made morally accountable for it ; and the owner
will have to bear the loss just as he would if it were
-done by some non-moral cause, such as a machine or
an animal. There is no remedy in such a case. Damage
done by very young children is of this kind and must
be regarded in the light of an accident, which one can
guard against in the future, but for which no person
can be held accountable.
Moreover, to render one's self liable to a grave duty
of restitution, we require a human act with a full realisa-
tion of the serious damage done and also a realisation of
the serious guilt that is incurred. An act that is to lay
on a man a grave obligation of making restitution must
be an act which is fully " moral," i.e. not imperfect,
either by reason of want of knowledge or of consent.
This, then, is the first condition — the damage must
be the effect of a human act springing from a com-
petent knowledge that wrong is being done and guilt
incurred.
The second condition is that the act should be unjust
in the strict sense, i.e. it should be against commutative
justice. It is only commutative justice the violation
of which gives rise to an obligation of restitution. If I
do not appoint a man to an office for which he is the
best man, but still to which he has no absolute right in
382 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
wrong : I offend against distributive justice ; but I do-
not injure the applicant in any of his strict rights.
It is easy to see whether my action is unjust or not
when it is a question of damage done to a man's actual
property. But it is not so easy to say when a man
becomes positively unjust in preventing another from
getting some property or some salary to which he has
looked forward. If a man has a strict right to the
advantage or position in question I am unjust if I
interfere at all. But if a man has no strict rights to>
the property, position, or salary, he may still have a
strict right to be allowed a fair chance, and consequently
no fraud must be used against him, and no unfair ad-
vantage must be taken of him — the rules of the game
must be played. It is said that in some departments,
of government the clerks have sometimes withheld
from the heads of departments the applications of
candidates for positions. Such an act would be a most
grave violation of commutative justice. Again, if I
know that some one is likely to leave a large legacy
to a certain individual I may dissuade the testator by
fair and true arguments from doing it, I may even
mention personal faults of the individual in question ;
but I cannot use threats or fraud, nor can I slander the
individual in any way. This rule, we admit, is vague ;
but it will give us some idea of where an injury may
begin which would entail restitution.
The third condition is that the person who is charged
with the damage should really have caused the damage.
Hence, first, if no damage has actually resulted no
liability to restitution can exist. Hatred and intention
to do damage, or an unsuccessful attempt at damage,
gives rise to no liability, even though there may be
grave violation of the moral law.
Again, the damage done should really be caused
by my act if I am to be held responsible for it. If I
fire off a gun in a crowded street for mere fun, I am to
be held rcHponHiblc for all the damage eifcctod. But a
PROPERTY AND RESTITUTION 383
trespasser in crossing a lield at night is not to be held
responsible if in the darkness he knocks against some
person and causes his death ; and he would not be
responsible even if such an incident occurred to his
mind as possible. Such an incident could scarcely be
said to be an effect of trespass. It is an effect of a
most complex combination of circumstances which the
trespasser did not himself cause. Again, a criminal is.
not charged with injury to another because his crime
is falsely imputed to that other by the public. He is
not the cause of this false attribution.
It is asked sometimes whether a man who intends to
burn down the house of one person, and by mistake
burns the house of another is liable to make restitution.
The reason of the doubt is that an injury is done to a
certain individual which was never intended. Different
solutions are given, but in our opinion a man who burns
down another person's house knows well that he is
doing grave damage to the owner of that house, and it is
immaterial whether he knows who the real owner is.
It remains to say a word on the amount of restitution
one has to make for damage done. As a rule it is the
exact equivalent of the damage. But if the damage is
greater than the person supposed he was causing, is he
to be made liable for what he really did or for what he
supposed he was doing ? The answer is clear. A man
is not chargeable for damage except in so far as it was
caused by a human act based on knowledge. Therefore,
no one can be charged with a greater injustice than he
thought he was inflicting or for a greater damage than
he thought he was doing. The rest is accident.
On co-operation.
When several persons have had a hand in doing an
injury the problem of co-operation is introduced.
Co-operation is either positive or negative. Positive
co-operation occurs when one person positively helps
another in wrong-doing, e.g. when several persons con-
384 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
spire to kill another. Negative co-operation means
neglecting to prevent injury which one is under a duty
to prevent. Thus a policeman is bound to prevent a
thief from breaking into a house, and if he neglects to
do so he is a co-operator in the crime. The chief servant
of a house has an obligation to protect his master's
property against aU, even, the other servants, whilst
the other servant.s have an obligation to protect their
master's property at least against all outsiders. Neglect
to perform one's duties in these cares amounts to co-
operation in another's guilt, and the very same obliga-
tions arise in respect of it that arise in the case of
positive co-operation.
In co-operation each of the persons implicated has a
share in the guilt and in the liability that arises to make
restitution. A man's guilt and his responsibility for
reparation go hand in hand, so that whatever will make
his material co-operation innocent will also relieve him
from all obligation to make restitution ; but to the degree
in which he is guilty he must make restitution ; we may
say then that partners in wrong-doing are bound to
make restitution generally in proportion to the share
they had in the wrong. A man cannot be held responsible
for more damage than he has himself accomplished.
Applying this law we find that as a rule each one is
responsible for a part only ; but there are cases where
each is bound to make good all the loss in default of the
others. Such is the case where several conspire together
and act as an organised band, or when the co-operation
of each is necessary, for in these cases each becomes an
actor in all that is accomplished. Again, full responsi-
bility attaches to each one who did what was sufficient
to cause the whole damage. If live people lay each a
sleeper over a railway track each is responsible for the
whole damage done.
These are cases in which the partners are severally
bound to make good the whole damage or loss in default
of the rest.
CHAPTER XIII
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE
In the preceding chapters of the present volume we
considered the duties and rights of man as individual.
We now go on to consider man in society and the various
requirements of natural law in regard to society. Now
though there are many kinds of society differing from
one another in aim and importance, there are only
two kinds of human society that are instituted by
natural law, viz. the family and the State : and since
Ethics is the science of human conduct in so far as it is
governed by natural law, our discussion in the remaining
chapters of the present volume will be devoted to the
consideration of these two forms of society — the family
and the State.
Before, however, proceeding to our discussion on
these two special forms of society it will be necessary
to say what is meant by society in general, and also
to enumerate its various kinds.
By society is meant a stable union of several persons
bound to a common line of action for the attainment of
some common end. First, it is self-evident that every
society consists of several persons, i.e. any number more
than one. A single individual could not constitute a
society. Secondly, every society is to some extent an
enduring union, not necessarily a permanent union,
but a union designed to last over a considerable period.
Thirdly, every society is held together by the moral
bonds of " end and means." Mere local contiguity
would not be sufficient to constitute a society. Local
contiguity is not even a necessary condition of the
social unit, since a single society might be constituted
VOL. 11—25 385
386 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of members locally very widely separated from one
ariother. The social bond proper consists in the common
purpose of its members and the common means chosen
for its attainment. By a common means we do not
intend to connote identity of action on the part of all
the members. The various members constituting the
social unit have often set to them widely different
tasks for the attainment of the end. What the con-
ception of society supposes is the utilisation by the
various members of some portion of the commoji means,
whereby the end is to be reached. It is through the
entertainment of a common purpose, and the pursuit
of this purpose through a defined common means, that
the plurality of members composing any society be-
comes a unity. Fourthly, the means by which a society
attains its end are prescribed by laws set down by
some ruling authority, and so we say that the membera
are bound to the use of the means. We have said the
end of society is reached by the adoption of a determinate
common means ; and since in most departments of
human action there are several ways in which, or several
sets of means through which an end may be attained,.
it follows that society cannot attain its end unless it
is ruled and directed by some person or body of persons-
charged, first with the selection of some one determinate
set of means, and secondly, with the duty of seeing
that the members utilise these means. All society, there-
fore, presupposes a ruler of some kind with authority
to legislate for and govern the members, to bind them
to the use of the proper means. This authority ia
spoken of as the formal element in society, the member*
who compose the union constituting the material element.
And since the set of means chosen must be one and
determinate, it follows that the supreme ruler of any
society must be one — either one individual, or one body
of individuals ruling with a common voice. If there
were two supreme authorities they would probably fix.
on two different sets of means, not one, for the attain-
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 387
ment of the end. There may, of course, be subordinate
rulers, but these subordinate rulers will act by virtue
of authority conferred on them by the supreme ruler.
In every society there is one supreme ruler and one
supreme authority.
The various kinds of society.
Societies are divided into the following general classes :
(i) Perfect and imperfect societies. The expression,
" perfect society," is used in two different senses to
denote {a) a society which is self-contained, the end of
which is not contained in any other, and which is, there-
fore, itself not a part of, or subordinated to, any other
natural society ; (6) a society which is self-sufficing,
i.e. is endowed with all the means necessary for the
attaining of its own end, and is on that account not
dependent on other societies.* The second is the more
common meaning and is the meaning which will be
followed in the present work. By an imperfect society,
on the other hand, we shall understand one that is not,
out of its own resources, capable of attaining its end.
The State is an example of a perfect society. An
insurance society is imperfect — without the State it
could not even exist.
(2) Societies in respect of their origin are either natural
or positive, according as they depend on natural law,
being necessary for men from the very nature of man,
or on positive law or positive agreement of some kind,
not being necessities of nature.
(3) In respect of their extent societies are divided into
universal and particular, according as they include all
men or only a special race, community, or body of
men. What is known as " human society " generally
I includes the whole race as directed by the Supreme
• The second is really contained in the first ; a society which is
self-contained is alsj self-sufficing.
388 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Ruler of the universe to man's final end. Each State is
a particular society in the sense explained.
(4) In respect of the relationship of the members,
societies are either equal or unequal. In equal societies
all the members have equal rights, powers and duties.
In unequal societies some members have special powers
and rights not shared by the others.*
THE FAMILY
The family is a society consisting of father, mother,
and children. In a wider sense of the word it includes
all blood-relationships. This is the sense in which the
word was used in ancient times. In the present chapter,
however, the term will be used in its restricted and
modern sense only.
The family is a natural society because it is necessary
for the continuance of the race, and nature intends
that the race should be continued. The family is
necessary for the continuance of the race because the
child cannot rear itself ; it has to be brought up b}^
others ; and the provision made by nature for attaining
this end consists, as we shall see later, in the marriage
of the parents and the subjection of the children to
their parents. But this double tie of parent to parent
and of parent to child originating in natural necessity
is cemented by certain natural subjective impulses, such
as the love of parent for parent, of parent for child, and
of child for parent. And, therefore, the family is
natural in the fullest measure, since the ties that bind
the parts together are all from nature.
The end of this natural society of the family is the
-V good of the child, first, its existence, second, its rearing.
The family life, of course, is not able to provide every-
thing required for the child. The State provides many
* In all societies the ruler is possessed of special rights. In this
fiense all societies arc unequal. But an unequal society in the technical
0cnse given above is one in which even the subjects are unequal.
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 389
things. But the family provides at least the things
necessary for the daily needs. Hence Aristotle's defini-
tion of the family — a society established by nature for
the supply of men's every-day wants.
The efficient cause of the family is to be found in the
contract of marriage. Through marriage binding the
parents together in an enduring union, the family is
brought into existence and maintained in existence.
It is the conditions and terms of the marriage-contract
that make the family what it is, and bind the lives of
father and mother into one life, and that bind both
together to the child. It is natural, therefore, that our
discussion on the family should centre round the question
of marriage on which the family is founded and by which
its character is determined. To this question we shall
devote the remainder of the present chapter and the
chapter to follow.
On Marriage
Marriage may be considered in its two-fold aspect of
the matrimonial state, and the contractual act whereby
that state is begun. We shall here consider marriage
in its first sense only, and as such it is defined — a stable I
union of persons of opposite sexes, made under contract, ;
with a view principally to the birth and rearing of children. \
In this definition are contained the bare essentials of
marriage, i.e. the elements that are required not for
marriage at its best, but for marriage simply. It repre-
sents the least number of conditions required both in
regard to the union itself, and the purpose to which
the union is directed, in order that such union may be
accounted a marriage.
These conditions are, first, there must be a union of
persons of opposite sexes. Whether this union is
necessarily of one man and one woman, or whether
marriage allows of a plurality of wives or husbands is
a question which we shall consider later in delineating
390 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the properties of marriage. Our present contention
which will scarcely be regarded as open to question, for
it is defined in the very end of marriage, viz. the birth
of children, is that marriage is a union of persons of
opposite sexes. Secondly, marriage is a stable union. A
mere momentary association of persons of opposite sex
even for the purpose of bringing children into existence
would not constitute a marriage. The marriage union
must be stable, i.e. it must have such a degree of per-
manence as is required by the end to which the marriage
union is directed. It must last, therefore, at least, as
long as is required for the birth and rearing of children.
What precisely is the degree of permanence required
for marriage, whether it involves life-long permanence,
i.e. indissolubility, or whether a shorter period suffices,
will be treated in the following chapter. Thirdly, the
permanence or stability of the marriage state must be
provided for by contract. Merely to remain together
from day to day, the parties holding themselves free to
separate at any moment, would, as a union, be quite acci-
dental, and would not possess the firmness or stability
required for the marriage union. Fourthly, the chief
aim of marriage is the birth and rearing of children.
We speak here of nature's purpose only. It is as means
to the birth and rearing of children that nature has
established a difference of the sexes, and that marriage
as a natural institution exists at all. It is, therefore,
the primary natural end of marriage. But granted
this primary purpose, then other and very important
secondary purposes, to be enumerated in the following
paragraph, take their place under the primary as natural
ends of marriage.
THE ENDS OF MARRIAGE
Individual persons marry from a great variety of
motives — some for money, some for position, some for
love. These individual motives arc not the object of
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 391
Dur discussion here. They are nothing more than
subjective accidental ends, and are beside the essential
purposes of marriage. What we are here examining is
nature's purpose, the purpose of marriage as a natural
institution, or what we may speak of as its objective
end. Now, as we have just seen, the chief natural end
of marriage consists in the birth and rearing of children
{bonum prolis). First, in the birth of children. It is
for this end that a difference has been set up in the
sexes. There is no relationship in the sexual life that
does not finally lead up in nature's scheme to this
essential end — the birth of children. But marriage also
includes, as part of its essential end, the rearing of
children. For the birth of children a brief association
of the sexes is all that is required. But the rearing of
children requires that enduring union of father and
mother which we speak of as marriage. And this re-
quirement is a requirement of nature itself, for nature
aims not at the mere momentary existence of children
but at their continued existence and their development,
and for these the child requires the joint support and
care of both its parents. This we shall show in our
discussion on the necessity of marriage.
But, granted this primary end, nature also, as we have
already said, contemplates other secondary ends, which
concern not the good of the child but the good of the
parents themselves {bonum conjugum) and which are
to be regarded as forming an important part of the
natural purpose of marriage. These secondary ends
all consist in the mutual supplying of those things in
which the sexes naturally supplement each other, both
on the physical and the psychical side of their respective
natures. In the first place marriage provides for the
satisfaction of certain sense appetites, not in a lawless
manner, but under the conditions required by human
reason. Secondly, each requires the other as a help
and support in life. In the physical order each requires
the other because the work which each is physically
392 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
fitted by nature to perform is different. In the mental
and moral sphere their need of each other is even greater
still. The perfections, virtues, refinements, the affec-
tions and sympathies even, of womankind are not those
of men. Marriage provides for the perfect blending
of these two sets of tendencies and capacities, in one full
human life. It is this bestowal of the gifts naturally
proper to each upon the other {mutuum obsequium sihi
a conjugibus in rebus domesticis impensum *) that con-
stitutes what we have spoken of as the secondary end
of marriage.
THE NECESSITY OF MARRIAGE
When v/e say that marriage is necessary we do not
mean that it is necessary that every person should
enter the married state. Under normal conditions, i.e.
as long as there is no danger of the race becoming extinct
any man may lawfully abstain from marriage. Marriage
is a duty that binds the race as such and not the individual
as such, for its chief end is the racial and not the individual
good. Now just as no man can live by getting other
people to eat for him, so the essentials of the individual
good are onl}^ to be obtained by the individual's own
work or co-operation. But the continuance of the race,
just like any other racial good, such as advance in
medicine and the arts, requires, not the co-operation of
each individual, but only of a certain number sufficient
for the purpose. t Marriage, therefore, is not necessary
* " S. Thcol. Suppl." 3 partis, Q.XLI. Art. 1. In Q. LXV.
Art. I. St. Thomas also speaks of these secondary ends of marriage
as fide<i or bonum fidei.
t The difficulty sviggcsts itself — if nature has supplied to every
person the faculty of prop gation, how is it that not all men arc
under an obligation to help in the continuance of the race. The
answer is that the mere possession of a faculty imposes no law or
duty of its exercise on any individual, but only the right to exorcist":
it. If m'jn were under a duty to exercise every capacity supplied
to them by nature then every man with a memory for dates would
be bound to study history, and every man with an car for music
would he bound to become a musician, and most men would be bound
to cultivate every profession, with what results both to the individual
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 393
in the sense that every person should marr}-, but it is
a natural necessit^^ for those who wish to have and to
bring up children,* for in the economy of nature this
is the necessary means for obtaining that end. As we
shall see presently, the child is not provided for as nature
requires by any mere momentary association of the
sexes but only by a stable union ; and such a stable
union of the sexes is what we speak of as marriage.
Now, that jnere momentary co-habitation, or co-
habitation depending for its duration on affection or
fancy are not sufficient, on the contrary, that stability
of union, 'as determined by certain inherent laws of
marriage, is necessary, will be evident from what we
have already said on the ends of marriage.
In nature's plan the first and fundamental end of
the sexual relation is the child. It is for this end that
the sexes exist, and this is the natural issue of their
union. In this matter nature's design may indeed
and the professions can be readily imagined. In all this matter the
economy of nature is very simple indeed. She provides every person
with the full complement of the natural faculties, though not all
share them in the same degree, and she leaves it to each to determine
along what line he will develop himself and help to promote the
common good. Except, therefore, in regard to those things that
are necessary for the individual life and which can only be attained
by the act of the same individual, nature imposes no law on individuals
of exercising any special activity such, for instance, as that of propa-
gation. On the contrary, the racial good is in many cases more
effectiv ly promoted, and in a higher way, through abstention from
marriage on the part of some, as when men remain bachelors in order
to cultivate science or from motives of patriotism or in order to j, j
become apostles to others. " He," says Bacon, " that hath wife and ;,-^
children hath given hostages to fortune, for they are impediments • ,
to great enterprises." And again, " a single life doth well \vith
churchmen, for charity will hardly water the ground where it must
lirst fill up a poo ." — Essays.
* It is equally necessary for those who take those means which,
whatever may be the feelings actuating the individuals, by nature
are intended to end in the birth of children. And this obligation
holds, even though nature's aim should be frustrated by human
ingenuity or by some accident. An act which is primarily intended
by nature for the attainment of a certain end should not be performed
under conditions which oppose this end. And since the end intended
by nature in the case of the present means is the birth and rearing
of children, these means can only be taken by those who are married,
and, therefore, in the condition required by nature for the joint
rearing of the child. See ch. II. of present vol. p. 63.
394 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
sometimes be impeded, either by human contrivance or
by natural defect, but about the character of nature's
design there is no room for doubt. The whole economy
of nature in all that relates to the division of the sexes
is meant to lead on finally to the child.
Now our proof that marriage is necessary in the
interest of the child will naturally divide itself into
three parts. It is necessary to show first {a), that the
child, unlike some animals, is not in a position to live
or develop from itself ; secondly (b) , that the dut}^ of
caring for the child devolves essentially on the parents
by natural law ; and thirdly (c), that this duty devolves
on both the parents.
{a) It is quite obvious that the child if left to itself
in the first years of its existence must simply perish.
For continuance in life it depends altogether on the
ministrations of others. From itself it can obtain neither
food nor clothing or any other thing necessary for its
life. And if the ministrations of others are necessary
for the life, so also they are necessary for the develop-
ment of the child. We are speaking here, not of those
higher stages of human development which go to make
up what is known as the higher or civilised life, and for
which, as we shall show later on, much more is required
than mere stability of union between man and woman,
but merely of those simpler attainments which might
legitimately be expected of the human race at any
period of its development, and even these, we claim,
the child is not capable of reaching by its own exertions.
Even after the first couple of years of its life have passed
away, during which the child is utterly helpless and
dependent on others for its life, the child is still dependent
on others for its growth and development, both in the
physical and the mental order. A child of seven or
eight years is in no condition to procure a living for
itself, whilst the degree of development, mental and
moral, attained at that age is not much higher than the
level of ordinary animal prrfortion, and, such as it is,
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 395
it would quickly be lost again were the child to be
abandoned to its own resources.
These things will hardly be called in question by any
sensible person, for they are obvious truths based upon
ordinary reason and experience. But they assume a
new significance and become more cogent and instructive
when we go on to compare the provision which nature
makes for the offspring of animals with the want of
natural provision apparent in the case of the child.
The young of most animals are, ver}^ early in their lives,
enabled to dispense with the services of others. Their
clothing is from nature ; through their natural instincts
and capacities they are soon fitted to acquire the necessary
food and to live and move and develop fully from them-
selves. The bird that is only a short while out of its
nest is physically and psychically almost as perfect as
€ver it will or could become ; and whatever degree of
perfection it may lack at that period will surely come
to it later, but automatically as it were, and even without
the need of its own co-operation. The child, on the
other hand, even after the long period is over during
which nutrition can be obtained only from another, is
still only at the beginning of the period of growth and
development, physical, mental, and moral. To abandon
the child before it is physically mature would be equiva-
lent almost to depriving it of food, whilst to abandon
it even after physical growth is assured, and before at
least the minimum degree of mental and moral training
has been attained, would be to leave the child, as a
human being, stunted and deformed, as truly so as if
physically it had failed to grow for want of material
nourishment. The child, therefore, is not in a position
to live or develop of itself, but is naturally dependent
on others, even for many years after it has attained
the use of reason.
(6) From what we have been saying it will be evident
that by natural law there devolves on somebody other
than the child a duty of caring for the child during a
396 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
period extending over many years. And that this
natural duty devolves in the first instance and essentiall}'
on the parent will readily be admitted by any one who
considers the position of the parent in regard to the
child. For it is the parents who have brought the
child into existence and, therefore, on the parent de-
volves the duty of providing those things that are
necessary for its existence and for its development, A
child might, indeed, for a number of reasons pass into
the guardianship of another, and be nurtured and
educated by that other. But it is on the parent that
this duty devolves in the first instance ; and even if
others should take up this work, the parent must always
be available, ready to aid it at any time, should the
child call for his or her presence and assistance. For
this is the primary and inalienable natural right of the
child — to call upon those who have given it existence
for aid and guidance in the infantine and, certainly, also,
during the early adult period.
And in this connection it is important to remember
that nature knows nothing of any other guardian for
the child than its own parents. The State, for instance,
it knows in other capacities as necessary for the defence
of the nation or for supplying the means of social pro-
gress. But of the State as nurse of the child nature
knows nothing. Nature has set up the parents as the
proper owners and guardians of the child, first, in the
fact that the parents are its natural causes, and sccondlv
by the thousand and one physical and mental ties by
which it has bound parent and child into one distinctive
natural group. To the mother it has given milk, naturally
destined for her own child, beginning, as this fount of
nurture does, with the life of the child, and continuing
as long as the child requires. Also, both parent and
child are supplied by nature with instincts of affection,
one for the other, which no other relationship can satisfy
or replace. The parent, therefore, is the only guardian
known to nature, and, consequently, on the parent
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 397
devolves the natural duty of rearing and caring for the
child. Our argument may be thus briefly expressed :
the parent is the cause of the child's existence and,
therefore, is charged with caring for its welfare ; the
parent is supplied b}^ nature with the essential means
required for the rearing of the child, and is thus designated
by nature herself as its proper and exclusive guardian.
(c) We now come to the third and most essential
part of our discussion. For if matrimony is to be re-
garded as necessary by natural law it will clearly be
necessary to show that the duty of caring for the child
devolves as much on the father as on the mother — that
their joint care is required during the period of their
child's tutelage. Now, that the father is charged by
nature to form with the mother an enduring union for
the sake of their offspring will be evident from the
following considerations : first, the father is, equally
with the mother, the cause of the child's existence,
and, therefore, equally with the mother he is charged
by nature with the child's welfare. Moreover, since it
was as one joint principle that they gave the child
existence, as one joint principle they are bound to
care for the child, and, therefore, their duty of caring
for the child's welfare is to be fulfilled, not in lives apart
and independent, but in a single joint life, lasting as long
as the development of the child requires. The father
and mother must remain together, bound to one another
for their child's sake, as long as the right of the child
to call to them for aid and guidance endures. Secondly,
without the support of the father, both mother and child
will under ordinary conditions find it difficult to survive ;
for, as we have already seen, for some time before and
after the birth of her child, the mother is not in a position
to secure the means of subsistence either for herself or
her child. These must be supplied by another, and
by what other in nature's plan except that one who is
responsible both for the mother's helpless condition and
the existence of the child ? A mother might, of course.
39? THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
through her wealth or through the aid of friends, be
rendered independent of her husband and be in na
actual need of his support. But these are accidental
conditions and nature knows nothing of them. Nature
knows of one guardian only for wife and child, viz.
the father of the child, and the design of nature admits-
no other in his place. Besides, money and friends may
fail. But whether they do or not, no accident of fortune
or of condition can rid a man of his responsibility to his.
child and its mother.
And in this respect it will again be interesting to
examine the economy of nature in regard to the male
parent in the animal world, and to see how it com-
pares with the attitude which nature assumes in regard
to man. Amongst certain animal races, those, viz, in
which the male parent is required for the support of
offspring, nature has provided a special instinct, whereby
male and female remain together until the rearing of
offspring is fully accomplished. " The procreation of
offspring," writes St. Thomas,* " is common to all
animals. But nature inclines to this end in diverse
ways in the case of different animals. For there are
some animals whose young can at once secure the
requisite food, or for the care of which the mother
suffices ; and in the case of these nature provides no
period of union between male and female. In other
cases both parents are required for the sustainment of
the young, but for a short time only, and in these cases,
e.g. that of some birds, the male remains with the female
for a short time. But children require the care of their
parents for a long time, and, therefore, the longest
period of cohabitation is necessary in the case of human
parents." Wherever, therefore, the aid of the male
parent is required for mother or child, nature insista
upon a corresponding continued union of the sexes.
But the behests of nature are conveyed to each species
in a way consonant with the capacities of each. Amongst
• " S. Thcol." 3 parlis Suppl. XLI. i.
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 39c>
such animals as require the support of the male parent^
nature has provided an inward natural impulse which
binds the male and female irresistibly together for the
required period. Man, on the other hand, is led by
reason and not by instinct merely, and the requirements
ot nature are realised by him after the manner of a
reasoned judgment. But the laws of nature as revealed
by reason are as sacred and inviolable as the necessities
of nature imposed by way of natural instinct. And,
therefore, if a period of union between male and female
is prescribed in the case of the animals whenever their
young requires their common care, much more is such
a union prescribed in the case of human parents, the
capacities of the child being so much greater than those
of the animal, whilst its power to attain the objects of
these capacities without the help of its parents is so-
much less.
The co-operation of the father with the mother, is,
therefore, necessary during the child's first years. But
the obligation of the father does not cease with these
first years. His guardianship in later years is as much
required as that of the mother, and his powers are
naturally supplementary to those of the mother. For
nature has given to them very different capacities for
the training of the child, and both are necessary to the
child's up-bringing.
Nature, therefore, requires a stable or abiding union
of the sexes, and not a mere momentary or shortlived
union, or a union lasting only as long as fancy and
affection direct. Any such shortlived union would
constitute a betrayal of, and a gross violation of nature's
requirements in regard to the child. But a stable union
of the sexes for the birth and rearing of children is what
we mean by matrimony (" haec autem obligatio ad
commanendum feminam marito matrimonium facit.".) *-
And, therefore, matrimony is necessary by natural law
in the interest of the child.
* 3 partis Suppl. LXV. 3.
400 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
THE CAUSES OR SPRINGS OF MARRIAGE
As we said before, in individual cases a man may
marry from any cause or motive, e.g. to obtain money
or position, or to benefit a friend. With such individual
and accidental causes we have here nothing to do. Our
present enquiry relates to the original, intrinsic, or
natural causes of marriage or those causes which incline
the generality of men to enter, not into a mere temporary
union with otie of another sex, but into that stable and
binding association of the sexes which we speak of as
marriage.
The chief natural cause and spring of marriage un-
doubtedly is to be found in the necessity of marriage
for the good of the child, and, through the child, of the
race. Men in general understand clearl}^ that without
marriage the child's life and welfare are not provided
for, and that the race must of necessity degenerate and
decay. The good of the child is the primary end of
marriage ; it will also be its chief cause and spring.
By this we do not mean that the good of the child con-
stitutes always the most prominent psychological motive
of action in those about to enter the married state.
What we mean is that it is the most important cause of
marriage, the cause which would continue to bring
about marriages even if other causes ceased to act ;
also it is the cause which, if marriages became perilously
few, would infallibly compel the rulers of States to
intervene and to issue ordinances obliging men to marr}'.
Most men cat for the pleasure of eating and not that
they may live. Yet the chief ground and cause of
eating is to be found in the necessity of food for the
sustainmcnt of life. This is the ground that would
remain and would still be operative even if the natural
appetite for food failed for any reason. It is so with
marriage. Its chief cause and spring is to be found in
its chief natural end.
But, just as in the case of food, so also in the case of
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 401
marriage, nature has not trusted to logic and reason
only, that is, to man's sense of the necessity of observing
the natural requirements, for the fulfilment of her aims.
Human life, whether of the individual or of the race, is
of so great importance that nature could not entrust
them to reason or our sense of duty only, whose com-
mands men so often fail to appreciate or to heed. Ac-
cordingly, just as in the interest of the individual life,
she has supplied a special appetite for food whereby
eating is made a source of delight, thus securing the
individual life, so also for racial continuance she has
supplied other special appetites whereby marriage and
the family life are made a source of delight, and has
thus, independently of man's sense of duty, secured the
continuance of the species.
The first and most powerful of these appetites is that
of sexual desire. The second is that of human love,
which is far more permanent than the impulse of sex.
The third is the need of companionship which of its
nature denotes a certain degree of permanence in the
alliance of the parties, which need also is most easily
and naturally satisfied by those whose gifts and qualities
naturally supplement one another as in the case of man
and woman. The fourth is the desire described by
Aristotle* implanted by nature in men's hearts to leave
after themselves a replica or image of themselves. This
latter desire may not be prominent in all before marriage
but it becomes most prominent after the child is born,
in the form of an intense affection for the child as flesh
of one's flesh, as, therefore, identical with, or an image of
a man's own self. In this, however, the maternal
instinct is stronger than the man's, as the economy of
nature would lead us to expect.
Any one of these four tendencies or needs would of
[itself suffice to constitute a powerful natural spring
[leading to the formation of the marriage union as opposed
to mere passing sexual relationship ; but their chief
* " Politics," I. 2.
VOL. II — 26
402 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
effectiveness lies in their cumulative force, and in the
fact that the objects of these needs so easily and so
naturally coalesce, the need for companionship being
most naturally fulfilled by the person whom love covets
for one's own, and the desire for continuance in offspring
being most happily met where the image of one's self
is also the image of the person loved. In the child is
furnished a new sense of identity between man and
woman, a sense of identity that waxes stronger as
sense love wanes, and, therefore, renders the affections
of the parties in later life independent of the vacillations
of sense.
We should add, however, that these special psycho-
logical springs are to be regarded as secondary and
subordinate only. Were men not convinced of the
necessity of marriage for the child and the race, those
secondary psychological springs would soon lose their
effectiveness, and marriage as a stable union of the
sexes would speedily disappear.
Some opinions of positivists on the ground or cause of
marriage.
The space af our disposal will allow of only the briefest
possible reference to the opinions of certain writers who
maintain that marriage is not a necessity of nature, and that
the introduction of marriage was due, not to the perceived
necessity of marriage for the good of the race, but to certain
other purely accidental and historical causes.
Marriage as a stable union is explained by Mr. Wester -
marck * as due to two causes — first, natural selection, those
races that did happen to favour stable unions defeating
in the struggle for existence the races which recognised
momentary unions only ; and secondly, the tendency " to
feel some attachment to a being which has been the cause
of pleasure — in this case sexual pleasure."
Anotljcr theory on the origin and cause of marriage is
he view of Lord Avcbury f tliat originally all the women of
the tribe belonged to all the men, that, later, women from
• " The History of Human Marriage," p. ao.
t " Mariiagc Totcmism and Exogamy, ip. 39.
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 403
other tribes were captured and became the property of their
captors. In this way restrictions of sexual union began to
appear which restrictions finally developed into the marriage
state.
A third theory is that defended by Starcke * that marriage
began with the desire of men, a desire purely economic in
character, to possess a woman or a certain number of women
to help in the home, and by brin.ejing up children to their
husband to become to him a source of wealth.
Reply. — Some of these theories presuppose a period of
primitive promiscuity, and the answer to them will, therefore,
be given in the text-note to follow, in which that theory is
considered ; but in all there are certain obvious specific
defects which hardly need to be pointed out. Thus the
survival theory of Mr. Westermarck ignores the fact that it
is only where the paternal care is necessary for offspring
that the absence of such care would be a weakness making
for defeat and extinction in the struggle for existence. In
the case of many species of animals this care is not necessary
and such animals exhibit no tendency to disappear. Marriage,
therefore, is based on the necessity of the parental care of
offspring. Again, Westermarck's second hypothesis of a
tendency to feel attachment to a being which has been the
cause of pleasure obviously ignores the operation of an
opposed and much more powerful tendency, the tendency,
viz. to seek out new and fresh loves, which tendency would
if not corrected by reason and by public law lead on to
promiscuity and not to marriage. Apparently it is some
such consideration as this that has led to Mr. Westermarck's
abandonment of this second part of his theory in the third
edition of his work. Lord Avebury's theory of marriage
by capture will be criticised later in our review of Exogamy,
whilst Starcke' s opinion is not regarded by scientific men as
of sufficient weight to need refutation. It is wholly
imaginative and unscientific. But a good general criticism
of all these theories is afforded by the principle that what is
absolutely necessary, and known by all to be necessary for
the race at present, must always have been necessary and
known to be necessary ; and under such circumstances it
seems quite an arbitrary and unscientific proceeding to
demand any other explanation of the origin or cause of such
institutions in the past than man's sense of their necessity.
" The Primitive Family," p. 256.
404 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
THE THEORY OF PRIMITI\'E PROMISCUITY
The theory that in the beginning the human race was
entirely promiscuous was at one time regarded as hardly
open to serious question amongst writers on sociological
subjects both in England and on the Continent. But recent
investigation into the marriage system of the primitive
races has proved so unfavourable to this theory that in
1907 Mr. W. H. R. Rivers, in his contribution to the series of
anthropological essays presented to Dr. Tylor, was able to
state with confidence that it was not now generally accepted
by scientific men. " The prevaihng tendency," he writes,
" in anthropology is against any scheme which would derive
human society from a state of promiscuity, whether com-
plete or of that modified form to which the term group-
marriage is usually applied."
Our criticism of this theory, which must necessarily be
of the briefest kind, will be divided into three parts. First,
a word will be necessary on the significance of the theory of
primitive promiscuity in moral science ; secondly, a few of
the chief arguments available against the theory will be
presented ; and finally, we shall answer the chief arguments
which have been cited in its favour.
Its ethical significance.
The theory of primitive promiscuity, even if it could be
completely established, should not be regarded as disproving
our doctrine of the necessity of marriage, or as proof that
marriage is accidental in its origin. On the contrary, the
necessity of marriage should on this supposition become
clearer and more certain. Had promiscuity ever generally
prevailed, its abandonment, with all the liberty and pleasure
attaching to it, should itself be regarded as affording irre-
fragable proof that the race early realised that promiscuity
was a violation of man's natural requirements, and that
unless promiscuity was replaced by marriage the race must
speedily decay.
Disproof of the theory.
[a) The necessity of some sort of stable union of the sexes
in the interest of the child and, indirectly, of the race, is so
obvious that it is impossible that at any time men should
not have known about it ; and if its necessity was widely
known it is impossible that the ])ublic or social sense of the
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 405
community should not have sustained marriage as a custom
or prescribed it as a tribal law.
(b) The present theory assumes the existence of a former
legalised state of universal promiscuity continued over a
very lengthy period — a state that recommended itself
universally to men, and that gradually gave way under laws
of development to higher and higher conditions in the sexual
relations, until, finally, the condition of marriage prevailed
over all. Now the condition of promiscuity is not such
as would induce conditions favourable to the development
of the high moral sense such as is required for marriage.
If missioners find it difficult, as they do, to raise up those
licentious races, among whom their apostleship lies, from a
condition not of promiscuity, but of something far higher
in the moral scale, how much harder would it be for a great
number of promiscuous races existing in every kind of en-
vironment to lift themselves out of their low condition and to
impose upon themselves the yoke and self-discipHne of the
matrimonial Hfe. Dechne in the moral consciousness of
nations is found always to lead away from, not to, respect of
the family life. The want of any moral sense in the matter
of sexual relation would consequently be most unfavourable
to progress towards that life. Our argument, therefore, is
that since marriage has come to be a universal law of the
race it cannot have sprung out of a condition of promiscuity.
(c) But not only does promiscuity fail to supply the con-
ditions necessary for development, and particularly moral
development, it also leads to conditions positively opposed
to development of any kind ; for in the first place, under
promiscuity the child cannot be cared for as nature requires ;
and secondly, promiscuity leads to a condition very un-
favourable to fertility. Under ordinary circumstances with-
out the help of the father, both mother and child must find
it difficult to obtain the necessaries of life. But amongst
primitive races these necessities it would be well-nigh im-
possible to obtain. For it must be remembered that in the
period now under discussion the necessaries of life were ob-
tainable only from the chase ; and mothers and women
generally were forbidden to join in the chase even if they were
in a condition to do so. " Everywhere," writes Wester-
marck,* " the chase devolves on the man, it being a rare
exception among savage peoples for a woman to engage in it.
Under such conditions a family consisting of mother and
roxmg only would probably have succumbed." Secondly,
* " The History of Human Marriage," p. 39.
4o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
although promiscuity will not entirely prevent the birth of
children, it is a well known and established conclusion of
science and of experience that promiscuity leads to " a
pathological condition very unfavourable to fecundity.'
Even in the case of ordinary races, therefore, anything even
remotely approaching a condition of promiscuity would tend
to the extinction of the race, but extinction would be inevitable
in the case of belligerent savages to whom survival in the
struggle for existence is possible only under conditions
favourable to increase of the race. It is clear, therefore,
that if promiscuity ever prevailed universally, the tendency
must have been, not to development, but to further de-
generacy and decay.
(d) Even if, physically, promiscuity were compatible with
the continued existence and development of the race, the
psychic nature of man, and particularly of the savage, is
such as would render the continuance of such a condition
impossible even for a brief period. For the nearer the
savage approaches the primitive condition the stronger
becomes the passion of jealousy, until finally, at the most
primitive stage, all ordinary communication between a
woman and the rest of the world is almost wholly forbidden.
Thus, amongst the primitive tribes of Australia, according
to Westermarck,* a woman is " not allowed to converse or
have any relation whatever with any adult male save her
husband. Even with a grown-up brother she is forbidd n
to exchange a word." Again, the severest penalties arc
provided even by the poorest races for unfaithfulness on the
part of a wife, whilst the most extraordinary precautions
are resorted to in order to ensure her fidelity. These pre-
cautions and proprieties are hardly to be regarded as com-
patible with the prevalence amongst these peoples of pro-
miscuity.!
(e) Finally, we appeal to the now certain fact that marriage
is accepted not only amongst all civilised and half-civihsed,
but also amongst tlie least developed races, that by them it
is regarded as the necessary and normal means for the con-
tinuance of the race, and that, as already said, the nearer
we come to what anthropologists speak of as the primitive
stock the more stringent do the marriage laws become. We
do not, of course, maintain that amongst savages marriage
always exhibits the same perfection that it does with us.
• ot>, cit. p. 117.
t I'or similar precautions in the case of tlic Aryan peoples sco
Schradcr, " Prehistoric Antiquities of the Aryan Peoples," p. 391.
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 407
Some peoples, for instance, favour polygynous marriages.
But all races recognise the need of a stable union of the parents,
and not only for as long as offspring requires but even for a
longer period. We do not for a moment deny the possi-
bility of promiscuity amongst certain races. Under certain
conditions a nation or tribe might sink to any depths. Even
St. Thomas Aquinas declared himself willing to accept
Cicero's statement as to the existence of promiscuous
peoples, remarking that it is not everybody that observes
the moral law. But actual investigation has now rendered y
the universal existence of marriage, even amongst the very |
lowest races, a practical certainty, so that it is now difficult
to think that promiscuity obtains as a legalised or accepted
system amongst any people. " Where marriage," writes
Ratzel,* " has been supposed to be absent, even amongst
the most promiscuous nomads of the forest and desert, its
existence has sooner or later been in every case established."
For a full account of the marriage laws and institutions of
the primitive races we can here only refer our reader to Mr.
Westermarck's work already quoted. Not only does he
succeed in proving that marriage is universal amongst these
primitive tribes, but also that even the most primitive often
exhibit a more rigid adherence to the marriage laws, as they
understand these laws, than is the case with many civihsed
peoples.
Twenty or more years ago many instances were con-
fidently quoted by men of the school of Lord Avebury, of
peoples amongst whom no trace of marriage existed. More
recent investigation has in every case dispelled these early
conclusions. We quote, as an instance, the case of the
Andaman Islanders who, until Mr. Man's investigations,
were believed to be promiscuous but were by him proved to
be not only not promiscuous but even strictly monogynous.
The general result of these investigations has been, as Mr.
Rivers says, most unfavourable to any theory of original
promiscuity. " The prevailing tendency in Anthropology is
against any scheme which would derive human society from
a state of promiscuity."
The attempted proofs.
The arguments developed by various writers in favour of
the theory of primitive promiscuity are of two kinds, direct
and indirect. The direct arguments are an attempt to
* " Volkerkunde " (English Translation), I. 114.
4o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
establish from history and positive observation the existence
of certain promiscuous races within the historic period, the
inference being that these races lead us back to a more
distant pre-historic period, when all races must have been
promiscuous. The indirect arguments consist in an appeal
to certain features in the life of certain savage races
which are not now promiscuous, which features, however,
it is claimed, are clearly survivals from a former period
when promiscuity must have prevailed amongst them.
The direct froof. — ^The present argument need not detain
us long, since already it is largely discounted amongst
scientific men. The argument is partly based on the
testimony of ancient writers such as Herodotus and Pliny
who make certain very confident references to distant
contemporaneous peoples supposed to be promiscuous.
But these testimonies are not now accounted as of very high
authority, since these ancient writers had not at their
disposal the equipment required for serious investigation
into the habits and laws of barbarous peoples. More im-
portant is the appeal made to the testimonies of modern
travellers who quote many instances of peoples living quite
promiscuously and apparently knowing nothing of the
marriage institution. The Bushmen of Africa, for instance,
are quoted by Lord Avebury as entirely promiscuous ; also
the Andaman Islanders already mentioned, the inhabitants,
of Borneo, and many others. The list is a long one and we
can scarcely be expected to take up each individual instance
quoted in support of the present theory. Nor is it necessary
that we should do so. It will be quite sufficient to repeat
our statement supported by such an authority as Mr. Rivers
that the current of scientific opinion is no longer in the
direction of Lord Avebury's theory, and that the cases on
which that view was founded are being slowly but surely
disproved as opportunities for closer investigation grow and
the methods improve. For instance, Ihcre is the case of
the Andaman Islanders, which has already been mentioned,
and in regard to wliidi we can only refer our reader to Mr..
Man's i)apcrs on the subject.* These papers show that not
only were the Andaman Islanders not ])romiscuous, but
that they were monogynous, that divorce was unknown
amongst them, and that fidelity unto death was not tlui
exception but the rule. Again, the appeal of Lord Avebury
• " Journal of the Anthropological Institute," 1882-3. See present
volume, p. 37.
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 409
to the various African races, an appeal based for the most
part on the flying visits of travellers, has been completely
disproved by the more serious work of recent scientific
investigators. "It is certain," writes M. Le Roy,* " ihat
nowhere in Africa do we see any present-day traces of this
promiscuity. . . . The more one descends amongst the
populations of most primitive general aspect, such as the
Pygmies and the San, the more the family appears precisely
as the fundamental basis, necessary and indisputable of
primitive society." The other cases cited by Lord Avebury
are of the same character, and are slowly yielding ground
before the continued pressure of serious scientific investigation.
The indirect proofs. — Of more importance than the direct
are the indirect proofs appealed to in support of this theory
of promiscuity, since the appeal here is not to the testimony
of ill-informed travellers, but to admitted facts. It is only
the interpretation of those facts and the inferences based
upon them that will be here caUed in question.
[a) The first of these indirect proofs is based on the now
generally admitted fact that amongst certain savage tribes
descent is through the mother, f The only explanation to
be found for such a fact is, according to McLennan, that
afforded by the theory of promiscuity, descent through
females connoting uncertain paternity, and uncertain pater-
nity, when general, being possible only under promiscuity.
Reply. — Promiscuity is neither necessary nor adequate as
an explanation of the matriarchal system. It is not neces-
sary because a much more natural explanation is furnished
by such facts as the following — that the child is more closely
related to the mother than to the father ; that in the poly-
g^'nous family each mother constituted with her children a
special group, the children of which group could only be
distinguished by their connection with their mother ; also
that some of the women were privileged over others, and
descent should be through the mother if these privileges
were to be inherited. Another explanation is that given by
M. Le Roy t that it was only in descent through his sister
or other blood relation that a chief could secure a successor
• " La Religion des Primitifs," p. 95.
f This discovery was first made public by a certain Swiss jurist.
Dr. Bachofen, in 1861, in his able work, " Das Mutterrecht." The
discovery was immediately utilised in support of the theory of
promiscuity.
X op. at. p. 104.
410 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of the same blood as his own. The children of his own wives
might not be his own.* Promiscuity, therefore, is not
necessary as an explanation of this system.
Neither is promiscuity sufficient as an explanation of
matriarchate, because, as Spencer points out, the matriarchal
system is found to exist where not only is there no trace of
promiscuity but " where there is neither polyandry now,
nor any sign of its past existence." Matriarchate, therefore,
must be due to some other cause than promiscuity and
uncertain paternity. f
(b) An appeal in proof of promiscuity is made in the
second place to certain alleged present instances of the
" group marriage " system amongst primitive races. It is
claimed by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen | that amongst the
Urabunna tribe of Central Australia, group marriage exists
at the present day, " a group of men of a certain designation
liaving, not nominally, but in actual reality and imder normal
conditions, marital relations with a group of women of another
•special designation." " Individual marriage does not exist,"
it is asserted, " amongst this tribe, either in name or in
practice." The inference is that these group marriages are
a survival from a former period in the development of the
race, that marriage is a development out of promiscuity,
the successive steps in the evolutionary series being from
sexual relations of all with all, to those of a group with a
group, and final to the relation of one with one, which is
our present system.
Reply. — Much light has of late been thrown on the marital
system obtaining amongst the Urabunna tribe, and the facts
revealed are not in harmony with tlic theory propounded
by Messrs. Spencer and Gillen. It is now certain that the
Urabunna tribe are not an instance of group marriage.
They are an instance of monogynous marriage amongst a
• This does not mean that amongst such peoples the moral laws
-were never observed in the relations of the sexes. It means that
violations of the law were always possible, and that, therefore, even
in a highly moral race the chief could not be absolutely certain of
the blood of the child, whereas identity of blood was absolutely
necessary for succession.
Giddinns maintains (" Principles of Sociology," p. 266) that tlic
matriarchal system was a result of economic conditions exclusively.
t Our reasoning here is fully borne out by E. S. Hartland in his
work on " Primitive Paternity," vol. 1. 325.
X " Northern Tribes of Central Australia," Also " Native Tribes
■of Central Australia " (sec p. no).
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 411
people who entertain very loose opinions about the rights of
a husband over his wife. In the Urabunna tribe each woman
is really wife to one man only, who is her husband in strict-
ness (Nupa), but who regards himself as entitled by his
position as husband to hand his wife over, not to any man,
but to any one man of a particular group who are spoken of
as Piranguru to this woman. These men have all a claim
to her, but this claim can only be exercised with the consent
of her real husband — her Nupa. The evidences, then, all
go to show that, so far from the Urabunna custom constituting
a step in the evolutionary series upwards from promiscuity
to monogyny, it is rather to be regarded as a degradation
from a former system of pure monogyn}', caused probably
by some general process of moral decadence within the tribe,
coupled, as Mr. Thomas suggests,* with the difficulty, so
often experienced in Australia, of obtaining wives. A
similar condition of things obtains, we are told by Mr.
Howitt,! amongst the Dieri tribe of South East Austraha.
There an individual girl is betrothed as special wife (Tippa-
malku) to one man ; but she can be handed over by her
Tippa-malku husband, i.e. her true husband, to some one
(Pirrauru) of a particular group of a definite designation,
it is not, therefore, an instance of group marriage proper.
The Dieri custom is nothing more than what Mr. Lang calls
it — a " legahsed paramourship." "Pirrauru," he tells us,J
"is no more a survival of, and a proof of, primitive
promiscuity than is the legalised incest of ancient Egypt
and ancient Peru."
(c) Thirdly, it is asserted that amongst certain peoples
who do not now practise group marriage, certain survivals
of that system still remain in the mode of address obtaining
amongst the members of the tribe. We are thus, it is
maintained, brought back to that remote period when
group marriage itself was evolved out of the promiscuous
condition. We are told, for instance, by Messrs. Fison and
Howitt § that the Kamilaroi people of South Australia are
divided into a certain number of groups, groups of men and
* " Kinship Organisation and Group Marriage in Australia," by
N. W. Thomas, p. 138.
t " The Native Tribes of S.E. Australia."
X Article, " The Family," in Ency. Britt.
§ " Kamilaroi and Kurnai." The four groups referred to in the
text are Ipai (the men) and Ipatha (the women) : Kubi and Kubitha ;
Muri and Matha ; Kumba and Butha. Ipai marries Kubitha, Kubi
marries Ipatha ; Muri marries Butha, Kumbu marries Matha.
412 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
groups of women, that each man of a particular group
refers to each woman of a certain other group, that, viz.
into which he can marry, as " wife," the inference being,
that though now each man is not individually married to
aU the women of the group, he is married to all by organic
law, and that formerly he was individually married to all.
The present mode of address, therefore, is only a survival
from the ancient practice of group marriage, which itself
succeeded promiscuity.
Reply. — ^The simplest explanation of these relationships
is that they are relationships of nomenclature only. It is
true that the men of a particular group can marry only
into another definite group of women. What could be more
natural than that the women of that group should be
designated by a special name distinguishing them from all
other groups and defining their special relation to the men
in question. Naturally, since each woman of that group,
and that alone, is potentially the wife of any individual of a
certain man group, she would be spoken of as wife by that
group. But this explanation is not of the nature of an
hypothesis merely. It is based upon what is definitely
known of the nomenclature adopted by certain other tribes,
as will now be shown.
[d) We now come to the final argument quoted in favour
of the theory of primitive promiscuity that, viz. afforded
by the well-known classificatory systems of relationship
described by Mr. Lewis Morgan * as obtaining amongst a
large number of savage peoples. These systems are indeed
very varied, but there are evidences that they are all variants
of a single original classificatory system. One example will
suffice to describe the phenomenon in question. Amongst
the Hawaians, Kingsmill Islanders, and Maoris, the people
of the tribe arc classified into five categories, according to
generation. One's brothers, sisters, cousins, i.e. all of one's
own generation, are spoken of as brothers and sisters. One's
father, mother, and their brothers, sisters, cousins, etc. are
spoken of as parent. The generation beyond those are all
spoken of as grand-parent. One's sons, daughters, and
their cousins, etc. are spoken of as one's children, the next
generation as one's grand-children. The system, Morgan
• In his works, " Ancient Society " and " Systems of Consanguinity
and Affinity ol the Human Family." Wc have to apologise for the
unavoidable brevity of our reference to Mr. Morgan's lengthy and
able volumes.
THE FAMILY AND MARRIAGE 413
maintains, can only be explained as a survival from a period
when all the men of one generation were the husbands of
all the women of the same, one consequence of which would
be uncertain paternity. Each father, not knowing his own
children, would simply describe all the children of the next
generation as his children.
Reply. — Morgan's explanation of the classificatory system
is not only not justified by the premises and exceedingly
far-fetched, but it does not even harmonise with the premises:
It is not demanded by the premises because the facts can be
explained more rationally on other grounds. The classifica-
tory system is simply one of nomenclature ; and the term
parent, child and grand-child denote generations merely,
not relationships.* To age, amongst savage nations, there
attaches a social importance far greater than amongst |
civilised people, and so it is natural that the tribe should be
marked off primarily into groups according to generation.
Indeed, this same form of address obtains to a certain extent
even amongst civilised peoples, who certainly are not given
to group marriages, and with them certainly it is meant to
denote generations only. In Spain a brother's grandson is
called grandson. f In Bulgaria and Russia a father's father's
brother is known as grandfather. To postulate a period of
group-marriages and consequent uncertain paternity in order
to explain a similar phenomenon in the case of savage tribes
seems not a little absurd.
But the hypothesis here is not only unnecessary, it also
contravenes the facts to be explained. For, granted, for
the sake of argument, that the children of one generation
spoke of all the men of the preceding as their fathers on
the ground that any of them might be their father, they
certainly could not speak of all the women of that genera-
tion as their mother on the ground that any of them might
be their mother. If paternity is uncertain maternity cannot
be, and yet, the individuals of each generation speak of the
women of the preceding generation as their parents. It is
evident, therefore, that uncertain parentage and the group-
marriage system which it implies cannot be accepted as
an explanation of the present nomenclature whatever else
may be.
In conclusion we may be permitted to remark that argu-
ments based on supposed survivals are always dangerous.
* See Starcke, " The Primitive Family," p. 207.
t Westermarck, op. cit. p. 90.
414 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
but in connection with the question of marriage they have
been pushed to ridiculous extremes. " Nowhere " (else),
writes Howard,* than in connection with this province
" can there be found rasher inference and more sweeping
generalisations from inadequate data." The evidence ad-
duced affords not the shghtest ground for belief in the exist-
ence of a former general period of group marriages, much
less of promiscuity. " It is not, of course, impossible," writes
Westermarck, t " that among some peoples intercourse
between the sexes may have been almost promiscuous.
But there is not a shred of genuine evidence for the notion
that promiscuity ever formed a general stage in the social
history of mankind." Indeed, our only wonder is how in a
sphere of c'onduct in which the incentives to evil are so
many and powerful, and deterioration is so easy, these
benighted children of Adam should have so long maintained
the high standard of practice which characterises most
primitive races in reference to marriage, and, how, whatever
their practices might be before marriage, they have always,
at least in theory and in their laws, rated the purity of the
hearth as the highest and most sacred requirement of their
tribal hfe.
* " Hist, of Mat. Institutions," I. 9.
t op. cit. p. 133.
CHAPTER XIV
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE
Before proceeding to determine the requirements of
natural law in regard to marriage it will be necessary to-
repeat our explanation of natural law given in the first
volume of this work, and to enlarge upon it according ta
the requirements of the subject now in hand. By
natural law in the sphere of human action is meant the
necessity of taking whatever means are required for the
attainment of the natural necessary ends. That some
ends are natural and necessary is evident from the fact
that in man there are certain recognised natural needs
such as the need for life, for food, for happiness, which
natural needs are all based upon the existence in man
of specific natural appetites for the attainment of these
ends. Every man naturally desires life, food, happiness.
The things that are naturally necessary for the attain-
ment of these ends are said to be prescribed by natural
law.
Now natural laws vary in order and importance
according to the importance of the ends which they
severally concern. Life, for instance, is more important
than education, and, therefore, the need of life and the
law prescribing its maintenance are of more importance
than the need of education and the laws resting on that
need. Again, even a single end like life may give rise
to different kinds of laws since some things are absolutely
essential to life itself, whilst other things are necessary
only for the better or healthier life. To eat is necessary
for life ; to eat good food and at the proper times and in
right quantities is necessary for the better and healthier
life. These differences in degree of importance in the
41S
4i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
natural ends give rise to a distinction in laws which is
of the greatest importance in Ethical science, viz.
primary and secondary laws. Speaking in a very general
way we may say that the primary laws are those laws
which prescribe the things necessary for the most
essential ends, the secondary laws prescribe what is
necessary for the less important ends. But these defini-
tions will later need modification, and a much clearer
view of what they severally imply will be gained from
our treatment of the subject at present in hands, viz.
the attributes of marriage, a subject which we now go
on to discuss.
Already we have distinguished the ends of marriage
into primary and secondary. The primary and im-
mediate end of marriage is the birth and rearing of
children. The secondary and subordinate end consists
in the happiness and good of the parents. Those laws
that provide for the attainment of the primary end
will naturally be of more consequence than those that
concern the secondary end, and this difference in
importance will be fully allowed for in the division of
laws * which is presently to be made.
But e\'en in regard to the primary end there is room
for differences in the natural laws. For not everything
in the primary end itself is of the same importance with
the rest. The essentials of the primary end are more
important than its higher perfections. It is more im-
portant to rear the chill than to rear it in the best and
most perfect way, as, for instance, by a good education
and by surrounding it with all that makes for natural
refinement. The substance must come before the per-
fections of the substance, else there is nothing to perfect.
Now some things are so necessary in the relations of the
sexes that without them the primary end of marriage
cannot be attained even in its bare essentials, or at least
the attaining of these essentials is very much impeded.
* The divisiun of primary and secondary ends is not quite co«
extensive with primary and secondary laws as will presently be seen.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 417
Other things are necessary only for the refinements, the
perfections of the primary end.
We have, then, three degrees of necessity falling under
the natural law. First, there are those means that are
necessary for the attainment of the primary end in its
bare essentials. Without these the designs of nature
cannot be attained at all or are much impeded. The
omission of those means is directly opposed to the
essentials of the primary end. Then, secondly, there
are those means that are necessary for the attainment
of the primary end in its perfection. Thirdly, there are
means that are necessary for the attainment of the
secondary ends. The first class of means is said to be
necessary for the " very being " of the thing ; the
second and third class are said to be necessary for its
J better or more perfect or more developed being, and by
the better being in this connection we mean to signify
not the better being prescribed by religion or by positive
law, but the better being contemplated by nature herself,
or what Prof. Bosanquet calls,* " the flower and crown
of the possibilities inherent in the natural conditions of
a thing." Without the first of these three sets of means
nature's purposes would remain wholly unfulfilled ;
without the second and third, though the fundamental
essentials of the natural law are not opposed, the level
of excellence attained falls very far short of nature's
standard.
As in connection with the natural law generally, so
also in regard to marriage, we have to distinguish two
different classes of law or precept. The primary laws,
as we saw, deal with what is of prime importance ;
I they deal, therefore, with the essentials of the primary
end, prescribing those things without which the essentials
of the primary end cannot be attained, and forbidding
those things which oppose the essentials of the primary
* " Philosophical Theory of the State," p. 32.
VOL. II — 27
4i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
unattainable or seriously impede their attainment.*
The secondary laws deal with what is necessary for the
things of subordinate or lesser importance ; they pre-
scribe, therefore, what is necessary for the attainment
of the secondary ends and for the full and perfect ac-
complishment of the primary end. Applying these
distinctions to marriage — anything in the marriage
union which prevents or seriously, and from its nature,
impedes the birth of children or the essentials of rearing f
is forbidden by the primary principles of the natural law ;
anything in the marriage union which of its nature
opposes the more perfect rearing of the child or the
welfare of the parents is forbidden by the secondary
principles of the natural law.
This distinction is of the greatest importance in de-
termining validity. In a system where natural law
alone obtains, any union of the sexes which is capable of
fulfilling the primary laws of nature in regard to marriage
is to be considered a genuine marriage. A union which
violates these primary laws is no marriage, but only
simple concubinage. But unions that merely fail to-
accord with the secondary laws of nature in either of
the two senses mentioned, though possible (in a system
where only natural law obtains), in as much as they
fulfil the bare essentials of nature, are yet to be regarded
as forbidden by nature, as falling below the standard
which nature prescribes. " Man and woman," writes
Aristotle. J " do not form a marriage for the sake of life
(only) but for the sake of a perfect (or better) life."
Under no circumstances could nature tolerate those
unions that violate the primary laws ; they are an offence
against nature in its deepest and most fundamental
• " S. Thcol," 3 partis suppl. Q. LXV. Art. i ad 8 ; also Q. LIV.
Art. 3. These primary laws obviously also forbid anything involving
a reversal of the essential relation of subjection of child to parent^
e.g. the marriage of parent and child, a relation which would demand
equality, not subjection.
t 'Jhis rearing must be in the way prescribed by nature, i.e. rearing^
by father and mother together. See Q. LXV. Art. i ad 8.
I " Econ " I. c. 3, I 43b, 18.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 419
requirement. Only in very special cases (we still suppose
that revealed religion does not intervene) could unions
that violate the secondary natural principles be allowed,
where, viz. if they are not tolerated greater evils will
follow.
The Unity of Marriage
By the unity of marriage is meant the marriage of
one man with one woman ; or, that a man cannot
simultaneously have more than one wife, or a woman
more than one husband. In all civilised countries
marriage is understood to be a union of one man with
one woman, and to attempt to contract a new marriages
before the expiration of the first is a crime punishable |\
by law. This law prescribing unity of marriage, though
largely founded on the requirements of the Christian
religion, is not to be regarded as wholly grounded on
religion, for the unity of marriage is also a requirement
of nature, and both reason and experience have long
since demonstrated its necessity. But the question for
us is how unity is to be regarded as a natural attribute
of marriage, and in what sense, and on what titles, and
whether in a system where revealed religion does not
intervene, a plurality of wives or husbands might ever
be allowed. In answering this question we shall have
to consider the unity of matrimony from its two sides,
that of the woman and that of the man. We shall
first inquire whether and how far monogyny or the pos-
session of one wife only is prescribed by natural law,
then whether monandry or the possession of one husband
only is of natural law.
Monogyny versus Polygyny*
That monogyny is not absolutely necessary for the
^obtaining of the primary end of marriage, i.e. the birth
* By derivation the words monogamy, bigamy, polygamy relate
neither to husbands nor to wives in particular but to either indifferently.
" Polygyny " is now the term most frequently used to denote, as its
420 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and rearing of children, is a proposition that will easily
be accepted by any thinking person, and, therefore, it
follows that monogyny is not required by the primary
laws of nature. Not only can children be born under
the polygynous system but that system places no
hindrance to their birth. They can be born to each
mother, and each mother's family may be numerically
as large as if her union with her husband were of the
monogynous type. The rearing of the children, too,
so far as the essentials of rearing are concerned, is pos-
sible under this polygynous system. The child can be fed
and nurtured, and to some extent instructed also, by
both its parents. Potygynous marriages, therefore, under
the law of nature * may be true and valid marriages, and,
therefore, their more or less wide-extended occurrence
is to be expected amongst those races that are satisfied
with the minimum requirements of nature, races that
have no care for that higher or more developed
life which is attainable even within the order of
nature.
But the efficacy of the polygynous family stops short
at these primary and fundamental requirements of
natural law. The birth of children is no doubt secured
as perfectly under this system as in the monogynous
family, but the rearing of the children, which, as we saw,
is also a part of the primary end of marriage, can be
realised in its essentials only, whilst most of the secondary
ends of marriage can scarcely be attained at all.
For a reason which will presently be explained, we
propose to consider in the first place the polygynous
derivation implies, having many wives. It seems, then, absurd to
use, as Westermarck does, as the correlative of this the term " mono-
gamy " to express the single wife-union. We, therefore, make bold
in the present volume to adopt a usage which has at all events the
advantage of following a uniform rule, viz. we shall use " monogyny "
to signify union with one woman ; " polygyny," to signify union
with many women.
• i.e. in circumstances where only the natural law obtains, and,
therefore, abstracting from the requirements of the Christian nligion
in regard to marriage.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 421
union in its relation to the secondary ends of marriage
— the honum conjugum.* Under this term is included
everything (outside the mere possession of children) that
goes to make up what we speak of as matrimonial bliss
as between husband and wife — the happiness possible
to them in the whole sum of their connubial relations,
from the simplest and most indispensable, up to the
highest and most refined. Now, our contention is that
in the polygynous marriage the conditions are not such
as make for the happiness of husband and wife (par-
ticularly of the latter), for mutual confidence and under-
standing, for self-respect in the mother, or for anything
that befits her dignity as a human person. In the
first place there can be no equality between husband
and wife where the husband is in a position to claim all
the service and attention of the wife, whilst she can only
divide the attention of her husband with many others.
Now, the woman, though she may owe obedience to her
husband, is, nevertheless, as a human being, his equal
in every way. By nature she is directed to the same
end ; by nature she is endowed with the same faculties,
and, therefore, she must not be treated as, in the order
of nature, a means only or as inferior. In the poly-
gynous union, on the other hand, the woman is not, and
cannot be treated in any other way than as an inferior.
In no way can she take her place in the family as the
equal of her husband. Before her children and the
world she stands in the position little better than that
of the slave.
And this sense of inequality and inferiority extending
over her whole life, and entering into every relation of
her life, will of itself exercise a most deleterious effect
on the mother, and degrade her not only in her own
estimation, but also in actual fact ; for its tendency
will be to suppress in her every natural feeling of self-
respect, and every desire for the higher things from
* The rearing of the child, which is part of the primary end, will
be considered in the second place.
422 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
which the mother of the monogynous family derives so
much of her dignity and her influence for good.
Secondly, where husband and wife are so unequal,
love, and by this we mean human love, with all that
differentiates it from the mere animal sexual impulse,
is of necessity absent, or present in shadow only. As we
said before, it is an inseparable characteristic of human
love to claim the person loved wholly for oneself, to
honour the person loved, and to desire a return of love
equal to one's own.* In a polygynous family, it will
not be necessary to show, such love is wholly impossible.
In the polygynous union the wife cannot be loved as an
equal, and her husband is not exclusively her own.
The essential conditions and characteristics of human
love are excluded by the very terms of the polygynous
union, and, therefore, if affection is present at all, it
can only be of the sense order, such as the brute animals
entertain. It follows that in such a union all those
finer and more tender kinds of love that are proper to
the human kind will be left untried ; the rich fields of
affection that lie outside the region of mere brute sense
will be left all uncultivated. In her intercourse with
her husband a woman so conditioned will be wounded
every day in her tenderest sensibilities. She will be a
slave rather than a wife. " Polygyn}^" writes Wester-
marck, "is an offence against the feelings of woman,
not only aYnongst highly civilised peoples, but even
among the rudest savages."
Thirdly, in a polygynous family, the passion of jealousy
must necessarily be present, with disastrous effects upon
all that go to make up the polygynous household.
Mother will vie with mother for a place in the affections
and attentions of their common husband, and each will
claim the higher functions of the household as her own.f
• Aristotle, " Nic. Eth." VIII. 6, 2 ; IX. 10, 5 ; VIII. 2, 3. The
woman in this case cannot claim her husband wholly for herself, is
not held in honour, cannot aspire to a love the equal of her own.
t " Communicatio plurium," writes St. Thomas, 3 partis Suppl.
LXV. I, "in uno ollicio causat litem."
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 423
And she will be moved, it is important to remember,
to this rivalry and to defend her position in the house-
hold, not from unworthy motives only, but from a
sense of her duty to herself as mother, and to her
children, who in justice should not be allowed to fall
into an inferior place in the household as compared with
the rest. She will be moved, therefore, by her duty,
to suspicion and jealousy. And this passion of jealousy
will grow to more intense effect, as each woman finds
herself superseded in turn by younger and newer wives,
and it will communicate itself to every part of the family,
or rather to the various parts of that series of competing
and antagonistic families which the system of polygyny
binds so closely but so artificially together. It is clear
then that in the polygynous family the honum conjugum,
the happiness and contentment of the parents, is not
to be obtained.
But it is impossible in viewing the secondary ends of
matrimony to confine our attention to the effects of
polygyny on husband and wife alone. For husband
and wife are a part of human society generally, and
matrimony more than any other natural institution
has to do with the welfare of human society. But
every one of the evils which have just been enumerated
will be reflected outside the family life in that larger
social environment of which families are the immediate
constituent parts. For the character of society is the
character of the aggregate of the units that make it
up. If the family generally is divided against itself,
and wanting in love, in dignity, in enthusiasm for the
better things of life and for the natural ideals, the tone
of human society generally will be low, its fibre weak,
and instead of providing an environment suitable for
development it will itself go far to hinder development
both on the part of the individual and of the family.
It will now be readily understood why in our criticism
of polygyny we treated of the secondary ends of matri-
mony in the first place and not of the primary end.
424 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
which includes not merely the birth but the rear-
ing of children. We wanted to show how the
unhappy conditions which polygyny sets up in the
relations of the parents and in the social environment
in which the child exists reflect themselves in the
child. This we now go on to show. Apart, of course,
from these reflected conditions, the rearing of children
has under the polygynous system its own inherent
difficulties. The children born to any one mother
must almost of necessity fall to her care exclusively.
The father may supply the necessities of life but
he will supply nothing else. The care, the love, the
forethought, the anxiety that are possible in the mono-
gynous family will be impossible to a father whose
attention is divided amongst so many groups. And
what reason tells us is likely to be the result, history
records as the actual universal accompaniment of the
polygynous system. Where polygyny prevails, there
the child falls to the care of the mother alone. And to
what kind of mother is the exclusive care of the child
thus unfortunately committed ? To one who is left
without self-respect or pride, whose position in the
family grows weaker as the years pass, who stands out
before her child as impotent to control or to command
the love or attention of him who is the co-principle with
her of the child's life. Under polygyny the child is,
indeed, handicapped from the start, both on the side
of its father and of its mother.
But in addition to this there are all the reflected evils
of the family environment in which the child is reared.
The degraded condition of the mother, the absence of
home-love and understanding, the atrophy from want
of exercise of all the finer human affections, the ill-
assorted groups of families into which the child's lot
is thrown, their perpetual and growing antagonisms,
the loose and degraded condition of society formed of
such groupH, all these will reflect themselves in the
child's life and character, and are obstacles to his perfect
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 425
rearing. It will, of course, be said that all these evils
may occur even in the monogynous family. We answer :
yes, but there they occur, not as a result of monogyny,
but for some other reason, and, therefore, fer accidens.
They cannot be regarded as inherent in the monogynous
system. But the results which we have been describing
are inherent and necessary effects of polygynous unions,
and, we may add, they would remain its characteristic
and inherent effects, even though by accident and by
taking precautions it might be possible to avoid them
in particular cases.* The natural law is determined
not by accidents and exceptions, but by general ten-
dencies and requirements alone.
Polygyny, therefore, though in consonance with the
essentials of the primary end of marriage, is opposed to
the secondary ends and to the perfect attainment of
the primary end. Consequently, though allowed by the
primary laws of marriage^ it is forbidden by the second-
ary laws.
Monandry versus Polyandry.
We now turn to the question of monandry and poly-
andry, or whether a plurality of husbands is compatible
with natural law. A little consideration will make it
clear that the condition of things obtaining in the poly-
andric union is quite different from that obtaining under
polygyny. Under polygyny the secondary ends of
matrimony are not obtainable ; neither is the primary
end obtainable in its perfection. And so polygyny was
adjudged to be incompatible with the requirements of
the better or more developed life. But under polygyny
* As a rule amongst savages only the rich are polygynous. Their
wives might, therefore, remain partially content with their position
because by their marriage they are placed above the rest of the women.
Also a man, as a rule, allies himself to two or at most three wives only.
But the effect of polygyny — its essential effects — are seen most
clearly under polygyny " writ large," that is, where the whole of
society is polygynous and each man has many wives ; and in such a
system certainly the lot of both mother and child is poor and unhappy.
426 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the main purpose, the primary end of marriage in its
essential features is quite attainable. For each child can
be reared and cared for by its father and mother in
joint endeavour and in the one home. Under polyandry,
on the other hand, neither the primary nor the secondary
'ends of marriage are attainable, as will be clearly seen
from the reasoning now to follow.
That the secondar}^ ends of marriage, and the per-
fections of the primary end, that is, all that goes to make
up the better or perfect family life, are not obtainable
under polyandry, it is unnecessary to attempt to prove.
The polyandric family is nothing more than a hideous
and revolting union, in which neither love, nor respect,
nor dignity of mother or father (particularly of the
latter), nor any of the nobler qualities of soul are attain-
able or conceivable. The polyandric family is lower
and more horrible even than promiscuity, for the poly-
andric family connotes not only the power to accomplish,
but also the right to accomplish everything that makes
promiscuity hideous. Under promiscuity a woman may
escape some, at all events, of the horrors of the system.
In the polyandric union she can escape nothing. In
such a union it is her duty, if we might say so, to sink
to every unspeakable depth. What need then can there
be to discuss in regard to such a union the higher re-
quirements, the perfections of soul obtainable, the
refinements ensured ?
Consequently we go on to show that polyandry is
opposed to the primary laws of nature. It is opposed
to the primary laws because it is opposed to the primary
end of marriage, viz. {a) the birth and [b) the rearing
of children.
(a) That polyandry does not accord with the require-
ments of nature in regard to the birth of children will
be evident from the following two arguments, one
negative, the other positive in character.
Polyandry can form no part of nature's economy or
system, since it in no way furthers nature's primary
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 427
end, i.e. it in no way helps to increase the race, which
is the most important element in the primary end of
matrimony. Within certain limits the greater the
number of women possessed by a man the greater the
number of children that can be born to him. But a
woman cannot bear more children by having many
husbands than by having one. And, therefore, poly-
andr}^, unlike polygyny, can form no part of the economy
or system of nature, in regard to the propagation of the
race. Nature has no use for such a union, and conse-
quently it lies completely outside the natural order.
But although the polyandric union lies completely outside
the scheme of nature, it does not lie outside the reach of
nature's condemnation. For if the polyandric union in
no way furthers nature's purposes, it, nevertheless,
offers to the parties the milieu in which the matrimonial
privileges attaching to these purposes may be utilised
and exercised. In other words, in the polyandric union
the privileges and pleasures attaching by natural design
to the propagation of the race are taken full advantage
of, whilst at the same time nature is cheated of that
great and important end for which alone these privileges
and pleasures were devised, viz. increase of the race.
Polyandry is, therefore, not only not a part of nature's
scheme, or recognised by nature in any way, it is
positively discountenanced and repudiated by nature
as an unwarranted encroachment upon her fruits and
privileges.
But the polyandric union not only in no way furthers,
it actually sets up a positive impediment to the birth
of children. Under polyandry the birth of children is
not, indeed, to be regarded as wholly prevented, since
the simultaneous conception of different children from
different fathers is physiologically a possible occurrence.
But such an occurrence would certainly be perilous to
one or other or both the offspring, and, therefore, the
^—polyandric union is at least to be regarded as an impedi-
^^ment to propagation, as making difficult the continuance
I
I
k
428 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of the race. Besides, it is a well-known fact that a
plurality of husbands tends to set up in woman an
habitual inability to conceive ; as Sir Henry Maine ex-
presses it, it sets up a " pathological condition un-
favourable to fecundity," * and in this way the poly-
andric union places not only a temporary but even an
habitual impediment to propagation. Of course, to
some extent it would be possible to obviate these diffi-
culties by turning the polyandric union into a series of
monandric unions each lasting for a year ; but such
unions would really be monandric,f not polyandric,
and the only ethical question that would arise con-
cerning them is whether a union of one man and one
woman, lasting for a year only, satisfies the law of nature
in regard to marriage. The polyandric union proper
means the simultaneous possession of many husbands,
and such union is opposed to the primary laws of nature,
for of its nature it impedes the birth of children.
(b) But if in the polyandric union the birth of children
is seriously impeded, the rearing of children in the way
required by natural law is rendered wholly impossible.
For by natural law the child should be reared by the
father and mother who brought it into existence, whereas
under the polyandric union no father is in a position to
rear his child, since by natural necessity he is unable to
know his child. And if the father cannot know his
child, so the child cannot know its father ; and, there-
fore, he is deprived of the right to call upon his father
for aid and guidance, a right to which nature strictly
entitles him.
Being opposed, therefore, to the primary end in its
very essentials, and violating, as a consequence, the
requirements of the primary laws of nature, the poly-
andric union is absolutely forbidden by natural law,
and can in no case be sustained. St. Thomas' brief
* Dissoluti! women liavc, as a rule, no children,
t It is in this way that the polyandric races of Thibet have managed
to burvivc. Sec Wcsterinarck, op. cit. p. ii6.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 429
but simple exposition may now be quoted. " Unam
uxorem habere plures viros est contra prima principia
legis naturae, eo quod per hoc quantum ad aliquid
totaliter tollitur et quantum ad aliquid impeditur bonum
prolis quod est principalis matrimonii finis. In bono
enim prolis intelligitur non solum procreatio sed etiam
educatio ; ipsa enim procreatio prolis etsi non totaliter
tollitur quia contingit post impregnationem primam
iterum mulierem impraegnari . . . tamen multum im-
peditur, quia vix potest accidere quin corruptio accidat
quantum ad utrumque foetus vel quantum ad alterum ;
sed educatio totaliter tollitur, quia ex hoc quod una
mulier plures maritos habet sequeretur incertitudo prolis
respectu patris cujus cura necessaria est in educando." *
The Indissolubility of Marriage
We come now to treat of the question whether marriage
is by the law of nature a terminable union or whether it
is indissoluble. It is important that we should under-
stand the exact nature of the question here under dis-
cussion. Divorce, or the breaking of marriage during
the lifetime of the parties, may be of two kinds, first,
imperfect divorce or separation a mensa et thoro, i.e.
merely ceasing to live together, neither party being
free to enter another marriage : second, perfect divorce
or divorce a vinculo, i.e. the dissolution of the marriage
tie during the lifetime of the parties, enabling either or
both of them to enter a new marriage. In our present
discussion we have nothing to do with imperfect, but
only with perfect divorce, or divorce a vinculo, and our
enquiry is whether the marriage tie is by the law of
^nature indissoluble, enduring to the end of life, so that
leither party can contract a valid marriage whilst the
ther is still alive. The doctrine to be defended here
[s that the marriage tie is by the law of nature indis-
* " S. TheoL" 3 partis suppl. LXV. i.
430 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
soluble, with, however, certain distinctions and reserva-
tions which will appear in the course of our discussion.
I. The essential properties and laws of marriage are
chiefly determined by its primary natural end. Any-
thing that is indispensably required for attaining that
end is a requirement of natural law. Anything that
opposes or seriously interferes with the attainment of
that end is strictly forbidden by natural law. Now, we
have seen that the primary natural end of marriage is;
the birth and rearing of children, and, therefore, by
natural law it is indispensably necessary that marriage
should last at least as Ic-ng as is required for the birth
and upbringing of the child, i.e. it should last at least
until the child is able to take full care of, and to pro-
vide for itself (quosque proles ad perfectam aetatem
ducatur*). This is the shortest period contemplated
by natural law in regard to marriage. Let us see what
its duration is, and, therefore, up to what age the
marriage union binds the parents by the primary
principles of the natural law.
If the only end contemplated by nature in the in-
stitution of marriage was the birth and rearing, by
each man and woman, of one child, then a father and
mother would have fully discharged the duties imposed
upon them by the primary natural precepts by remain-
ing together for a space of about twenty years after
the birth of the child, at which age the natural period
of tutelage is supposed to end. This would be the
shortest period of time contemplated by nature in
relation to marriage, and any sundering of the marriage
tie before the end of that period would be impossible
in natural law.
But it is evident that the nurture of one child doea
not represent the true conditions aimed at by nature
in the marriage union. In the institution of marriage,.
nature certainly aims at the full use of the powers
which she h;i« bestowed on the sexes, she aims, that is»
• " S. Thcol." Suppl. ad 3 partem, LXVII. 2 ad i.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 431
at the birth not of one but of many children. Moreover,
the birth of only one child does not represent the normal
condition of the family, and it is by the normal con-
ditions that the natural laws and properties of marriage
are determined. After the child is born it has to be
nurtured and trained by its parents, for which purpose
the father and mother must stay together, as we have
already said, for a space of about twenty years ; now,,
normally it is to be expected that during that period
other children will have been born, on which account
the marriage union must be still further extended ; it
will, in fact, continue throughout the full period of
fecundity, and also for the twenty additional years
required for the upbringing of the last or youngest
child. Thus, normally, the primary requirements of
marriage will not have been met before the parents
reach the very advanced age of about seventy years.
And since, as we said, the laws oi nature are deter-
mined, not by what is exceptional, but by what is
normal and ordinary, this is the least period contem-
plated by nature in regard to the marriage union.
And here the great contrast already described between
the few shortlived requirements of the animal offspring,
and the almost complete and continuous dependence
of the human child upon its parents, is confirmed and
emphasised in a remarkable way. The young bird is
able to rise from its nest, fully fledged and independent,
in the very same season in which its parents meet and
begin their love. Then, nature's task being fully ac-
complished in regard to offspring, and before a new
love-season arrives, instinctively the parents" love dis-
solves, the conjugal union ceases, and they are free
again until the next love-period arrives, " when Hymen
in his usual anniversary season summons them again
to choose new mates." * Not so with the union of
man and woman. A large portion of their lives will
* See Locke, " Two Treatises on Government," ch. VII. where-
this argument is fully developed.
k
432 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
already have gone by before nature's commands in
regard to their first child can possibly have been met,
and in that time, normally speaking, other nurture-
cycles will have begun ; and thus the nurture-period
in the case of the human family does not close until
very late in the parents' lives, during all which time
the marriage union is necessary in the interest of the
child.
It will not be necessary to enumerate here at any
length the reasons why marriage must endure according
to natural law during the period required for the rearing
of the child. These reasons have already been stated
in our discussion on the necessity of marriage. But
the brief statement of them given by St. Thomas
Aquinas * may be quoted : —
" We observe," he writes, " that in those animals,
dogs for example, in which the female by herself suffices
for the rearing of the offspring, the male and female
stay no time together. . . . But with all animals in
which the female by herself does not suffice for the
rearing of offspring, male and female dwell together ....
so long as is necessary for the rearing and training of
the offspring. This appears in birds whose young are
incapable of finding their own food immediately after
they are hatched ; for since the bird does not suckle
her young with milk according to the provision made
by nature in quadrupeds, but has to seek food abroad
for her young, and, therefore, keep them warm in the
period of feeding, the female could not do this duty
all alone by herself ; hence divine providence has put
in the male a natural instinct of standing by the female
for the rearing of the brood. Now in the human species
the female is clearly insufficient of herself for the rearing
of offspring, since the need of human life makes many
demands which cannot be met by one parent alone.
Hence the fitness of human life requires man to stand
• " Summa Contra Gentiles," III. 122. Our translation is that
made by Father Kickaby, S.J., in " God and His Creatures."
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 433
by woman . . . and not to go off at once and form
connexions with any one he meets. . . . Nor is this
reasoning traversed by the fact of some particular
woman having wealth and power enough to nourish
her offspring all by herself ; for in human acts the line
of natural rectitude is not drawn to suit the accidental
variety of the individual, but the properties common to
the whole species.
" A further consideration is that in the human species
the young need not only bodily nutrition, as animals
do, but also the training of the soul. Other animals
have their natural instincts (suas prudentias) to provide
for themselves, but man lives by reason, which takes
the experience of a long time to arrive at discretion.
Hence, children need instruction by the confirmed ex-
perience of their parents : nor are they capable of such
instruction as soon as they are born, but after a long
time, the time, in fact, taken to arrive at the j-ears of
discretion. For this instruction, again, a long time is
needed. And then, moreover, because of the assaults of
passion, whereby the judgment of prudence is thwarted,
there is need not of instruction only but of repression
also. For this purpose the woman by herself is not
competent, but at this point especially there is re-
quisite the concurrence of the man, in whom there is\
at once reason more perfect to instruct, and force more \
potent to chastise. Therefore, in the human race the
advancement of the young in good must last not for a
short time, as in birds, but for a long period of life.
Hence, whereas it is necessary in all animals for the male
to stand by the female for such time as the father's
concurrence is requisite for bringing up of the progeny,
it is natural for man to be tied to the society of one
fixed woman for a long period, not a short one. This
social tie we call marriage." *
* In the further development of this argument (ch, 123) St.
Thomas calls attention to other evils occurring in the terminable
marriage system. For instance, where divorce is possible the mother
VOL. II — 28
434 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
After the birth of children, therefore, there is need
of continued care and direction for a very long period,
with a view to the development of the child, both in
the physical, the intellectual, and the moral order. In
the intellectual and moral order it is particularly
necessary at that age at which boys pass into manhood
and girls into womanhood, the age at which young
people are subject to most dangers. To break up the
marriage union at any point in that grave period of
the child's career would be to inflict on it a very great
injustice which could never afterwards be rectified.
The child is the chief loser through the divorce of
husband and wife. This is the clear testimony of
reason, and it is confirmed also by what experience
teaches us of the children of divorced parents. " He
leaned forward," writes the novelist,* " and touched
Nick on the head. . . . When I divorced your mother
(he said), I obtained damages from the man who had
betrayed her. But who paid, do you think ? Who
pays — always, always ? Good God ! It is the child
who pays. The man and the woman go their way
separately, and forget or stamp on the head of re-
membrance. They find new interests in life, stifle
their conscience, and find new love. For good or evil
their characters have been made. They do not alter
much. They are the heirs of their own childhood.
But how about the child who is just beginning life ?
who needs mother-love as well as father-love for the
foundations of belief, for faith in the essentials of life,
for guidance in the beginning of the journey ? You
will be more solicitous to provide for her own future than for that
of the child. Secondly, the possibility of divorce leads to the com-
mission of those crimes on account of which divorce is given. Thirdly,
in the family where divorce is anticipated there will be frequent
ini.sundcrstandings. On the other hand, how many misunderstandings
arc made to disappear through the consciousness that, for better for
wor.sc, the lives of husband and wife arc bound together inextricably
to the end.
• Philip Gibbs, in his beautiful and powerful work, " The Custody
of the Child."
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 435
know, Nick, you know. It is you who have paid the
price — to the full — every brass farthing of it.'
And herein lies the first and irreparable sin of the
divorce court. In other connections before a contract
is voided by the courts, even at the instance of the
framers of the contract, the interests of third parties
are always considered. But in the divorce court, the
interest not of a third party but of the first party, and
the only first, the party to whose good the marriage
contract is, in the order of nature itself, wholly subor-
dinate— that interest is not only left unprotected but
is even contemptuously ignored ; only the passions
and the feelings of the parents are considered. The
marriage union brings the child into existence ; in the
order of nature it is for the sake of the child that
marriage as an institution exists at all. From the day,
then, that marriage is entered upon, the first responsi-
bility of the parents is not to one another but to the
child. At divorce, on the other hand, as we have said,
the child's life and interest are completely ignored,
and its future sacrificed to the convenience of its
parents. In comparison with this tragedy of the be-
trayal of the child at divorce every other traged}* of
the home shrinks into insignificance. Circumstances
may, indeed, arise in which the child loses apparently
little in the loss of its parents' care. But nature frames
her canons of good and evil not in accordance with
such abnormalities, but in accordance with the usual
needs of men. And, to the child, the loss of parents,
regarded in itself, is naturally a loss of the first magni-
tude."
II. We have now seen that according to the strictest
and most indispensable, or what are called the primary
precepts of natural law, marriage is an enduring union
lasting as long as fertility lasts, and for about twenty
years after. It is a union, therefore, enduring by strict
natural law up to the age of about seventy years. It
will hardly be necessary to put up a defence of indis-
436 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
solubility for the brief span of life remaining after that
period, since it is hardl}^ to be expected that those who
have shared the joys and sorrows of life so long to-
gether will wish to part at the end when, more even
than in youth, they should appreciate and support
each other. Divorce, in fact, as a practical problem
seldom arises except in the earlier years of marriage,
while as yet even the first child has not been provided
for, and when, therefore, divorce is excluded by every
consideration of natural law.
Still for completeness' sake it will be necessary to
show here how the natural law stands in regard to the
last few years of the parents' lives, i.e. to enquire
whether the binding character of the marriage union
survives the period of up-bringing and remains to the
end of life.
Up to the present our reasoning has all been based
on the requirements of the primary end of marriage —
the good of the child. What is more, we have con-
sidered only the child's indispensable needs — the most
stringent requirements of birth and training, and the
primary laws based on these requirements. We have
yet to consider the secondary laws * of marriage, based,
first, on the perfections of the primary end, and, in the
second place, on the secondary end of marriage — the
good of the parents themselves. And reasoning from
both these subordinate ends of nature it is possible to
show that marriage is an indissoluble union, lasting to
the end of life.
We shall, in the first place, adduce an argument
specially relating to the period now under consideration,
viz, that which is normally subsequent to the up-
bringing of the family, and to which the primary
* These secondary laws arc not so important as the primary,
because the ends which they arc intended to secure arc not so im-
portant. Under a system in which only natural law obtained, the
public authorities could dispense from the observance of the secondary
laws for very grave reasons : but they could not dispense from the
primary laws.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 437
natural laws do not extend. In presenting this argu-
ment it is necessary to remind the reader of two things,
first, that we are here dealing, not with imperfect, but
with perfect divorce, or the dissolving of the marriage
bond with a view to the contracting of a second marriage ;
secondly, that we are considering here the attitude,
not of the civil law or of the Church, but of nature
towards the dissolution of marriage ; we are considering
a system in which the only authority being exercised
is that of nature ; and, therefore, the only question
with which we are concerned is whether, as soon as the
family is reared, nature herself dissolves the marriage
bond with a view to the formation of a second marriage.
Now, that nature herself does not dissolve the marriage
bond under the conditions we are here considering is
evident from the mere statement of these conditions.
The case here contemplated is that of a man approach-
ing the end of the normal life. If nature dissolves the
marriage of such a man with a view to a sernTT8\marriage
her clear intention in that, as in any other marriage, is
that the man should marry a woman of the age at
which normall}^ marriages are undertaken, this being
the age at which nature supposes women to marry.*
On the other hand, it is nature's purpose when a woman
marries that her fertility should be turned to full ac-
count in order to the setting up of the full natural
family, and, in the case we make, these two require-
ments of nature are quite incompatible. The fertility
which nature bestows upon a young woman could not
be exhausted by marriage with a man very advanced
in years ; the full family could not be founded ; and,
therefore, it is impossible that nature should herself
dissolve a marriage already existing with a view to such
an ineffectual union as this. Of course, if one of the
parties to the existing marriage should die, the tie of
* Old people may, of course, marry ; but the natural age for
marriage is that at wliich the faculties are first sufficiently matured,
not that of their decline.
438 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
marriage is broken automatically, not by nature's doing
but by death ; and then nature will tolerate a second
marriage for as much of nature's goods as the parties
can secure. But in a scheme where marriage is con-
trolled by nature or natural law only, if a man already
advanced in life can validly enter a second marriage
whilst his wife is living, it is because nature herself has
dissolved the union in order that the man may marry
again ; but it is obvious that this is not the way in
which nature provides for the continuance of the family
life. Indeed, were such dissolutions and second mar-
riages to become common they would seriously affect
the propagation of the race, that is, they would impede
and not promote the chief end of nature, which is the
continuance and increase of the race.
We now go on to develop certain other arguments
which also go to show that by the secondary laws of
nature marriage is absolutely indissoluble, that it can
never be broken.
{a) We * saw that by the primary laws of nature
marriage endures up to the end of the training period.
But the natural relations of parent and child do not
end when the child is reared. The parents are the
cause of the child's existence, and, therefore, they are
responsible for them at every age. The child, no
doubt, when fully trained is independent of his parents.
But if for any reason a son or a daughter should meet
with misfortime or should become a charge on others
that charge falls, first of all, on the parents, and, there-
fore, their union should continue to the end.
Again, there is the argument arising out of property.
Parents, as we have already 8een,f arc empowered by
nature to gather property together, and to become its
owners, principally with a view to the needs of children.
• The arguments under a relate to the interest of the child (the
lOM essential interests) ; those under b refer to the welfare of the
parents.
t p. 122, The present argument is given by St. Thomas Aquinas.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 439
The children, therefore, are the natural heirs of the
parents and have a natural claim on the family pro-
perty. Consequently the parents are not free to dis-
solve their union in order to enter a second marriage ;
since, if this could be done, the rights of the children
would have been given them to no purpose.*
(b) To these arguments based on the unessential
good of the child we may add others based on the
necessity of the parents to one another.
In the first place, man is the natural support of
woman. Now, in any particular case there is no one
on whom this natural duty of support devolves so
directly as on the woman's husband. And this duty
is not one that diminishes in cogency as the years go
by, on the contrary, it increases as the woman becomes
older, and, therefore, a man should stand by his wife
in her old age and unto the end.
Indeed, from this point of view, it is possible to show
that a woman has a right in commutative justice to
support and fidelity to the end. For, having given her-
self to her husband during the whole period of fertility,
and for as long as youth and beauty remain, she has
given him her whole life in so far as it could have a
value for him. In return she must get love and pro-
tection for her whole life.
Again, at divorce the woman is always at a disad-
vantage as compared with her husband, for she is the
weaker part and alwa3's dependent on another. But
after the rearing of her family what position is the
woman in to find another husband from whom to
obtain support ?
Indissolubilit}' is also established from the nature of
m * In connection with all these arguments it is to be remembered
that by the death of one of the parties the marriage union auto-
matically comes to an end, and then we cannot urge our reasonings
I based on the design of nature in regard to the marriage union. The
parent may, no doubt, have certain duties surviving from his first
marriage, but in taking account of them we must not lose sight of
the right of freedom which is given him by the death of the other
party.
440 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
marital love. The love which a husband should bear
to his wife is not a love of sense merely — it is not mere
animal love based on passion. His love should be a
human love, a love based on friendship more than on
passion — a love, therefore, which not merely receives
but gives also. The love of passion is selfish and, there-
fore, it lasts a short time only, i.e. as long as the at-
tractiveness of the woman lasts.* The love of friend-
ship is unselfish, it increases with every year that passes,
and endures till death. The man, therefore, who is
attracted to stay with his wife while she is young and
beautiful, and throws her aside when she is old, has
never loved her in a human way, but as an animal onl}-.
True human love is not expressed by the formula, " I
love you for a year or as long as 3'ou are young " (that
would be a travesty of human love) ; but by the formula,
" I love you," or which is the same thing, " I love you
absolutely, and without restriction of time, i.e. for ever."
" Love," says the poet, " is love for evermore."
Finally, we may note that any recognition of divorce
is bound to lead to endless multiplication of the causes
for which divorce may be obtained, and, in the end,
the dissolution of marriage will be left practically tt)
the will of the parties. Marriages will even be entered
upon with a view to their speedy termination, for the
sake of the freedom enjoyed by unmarried persons,
and at the same time lo avoid the disgrace attaching
to- the illicit union. Moreover, divorce will be sought
at the earliest possible period so as to enable the parties,
• The love of the animal goes out to the object only for the moment.
The animal thinks only in the present. As soon, therefore, as present
attractiveness ceases its love perishes. But human thought and
feeling arc not confined to the present but travel back into the past
and forward to the future : —
" 'Tis thou art blessed compared wi' me
The present only touchcth thee ;
But, och t I backward cast my e'e on prospects drear,
An' forward, tho' I cannot sec, I guess and fear." — Burns.
And, therefore, true human love is given for the future as well as for
the present.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 441
and particularly the woman, to find other partners in
life ; and thus the children, if there should he children,
will be left uncared for even in their tenderest years.
In this way the recognition of divorce leads on to a
condition little short of promiscuity, and in the end to
racial decay and death.
To sum up — by the primary laws of nature, marriage
is an enduring union, lasting as long as is required for
the birth and the rearing of children. And since, in
nature's intentions, the birth of many children is con-
templated, and since the natural laws are framed ac-
cording to the natural requirements, it follows that the
marriage union by the primary natural laws is not a
brief union — on the contrary, it must endure till near
the end of life. By the secondary laws of nature, how-
ever, based on the more perfect relations of parent to
child, and also on the needs of the parents themselves,
marriage is an indissoluble union, broken only by the
death of one of the parents.
Difficulty.
Where one of the parties is infertile would it not seem
that our reasonings, based on the needs of children, are
wholly inapplicable, and that, therefore, marriage under
such conditions has not even that degree of stability which
is said to be required by the primary laws, viz. that it
should last for so long as the rearing of the child requires ?
Reply. We are here enquiring into the natural laws and
properties of marriage as an institution. Now, the natural
properties of anything are determined by its natural end,*
and, therefore, since nature in the institution of marriage
aims principally at the birth and rearing of children, and
since this, as we have just seen, requires indissolubility, so,
indissolubility is a necessary and inseparable natural property
^of the married state. Once, therefore, a marriage is really
md truly contracted it retains all its essential properties,
|including indissolubility, no matter what may be the cir-
:umstances of the parties concerned, and, therefore, no
* We also use, as a test of what is natural, the normal or the usual,
)r what is natural is sure to be the normal also.
442 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
matter what may be the number of their children and
whether they have children or not.
From this it follows that the only question that can
possibly arise in regard to infertility and the marital attri-
butes is the question whether a marriage entered into be-
tween two persons, one of whom is infertile, is a true and
valid marriage contract ; for, if it is, then such a marriage,
just like any other, is naturally indissoluble. And that
such a marriage is valid is evident from the laws ordin-
arily governing the validity of contract. In any contract it
is possible to distinguish the object and the end ; and the
contract will be valid so long as its object exists, no matter
whether the end is actually attainable or not. If I buy a
book in order to pass an examination, the contract, whether
I attain this end or not, is valid once the object — the book,
is given and paid for. It is so also with marriage. The
end of marriage is the generation of offspring. The object
given and accepted, and which the contract directly con-
cerns, is the usus corporis. If that is possible the marriage
contract stands and is indissoluble. If that is impossible,
as in the case of impotentin, the marriage contract is invalid
and the question of dissolubility or its opposite does not
arise.
The Natural Impediments
There are some impediments which make the con-
tracting of marriage unlawful but do not render the
marriage null and void ; for instance, a promise of
marriage made to another. These are called impedient
impediments. Other impediments render the contract
null and void. They are called diriment impediments.
But some diriment impediments arise by natural
iavv, some depend on positive or civil or ecclesiastical
law only. In Ethics we deal exclusively with such
impediments as depend on natural law. These natural
diriment impediments may be enumerated under such
headings as the following : Some arise out of the want
of the necessary consent, for instance, a mistake as
regards the person with whom the marriage is being
contracted — thinking one is marrying one person when
one is really marrying another ; under the same heading
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 443
comes the impediment of violence and want of freedom.
Other diriment impediments arise out of some want or
hindrance in the contracting parties. Sometimes this
hindrance is of the nature of a personal defect which
renders the object of marriage wholly impossible, e.g.
impotence. Sometimes this hindrance is not in the
nature of a defect. For instance, a previous and still
surviving marriage with another person nullifies a second
marriage ; also consanguinity or affinity between the
parties. In the present section we propose to examine
at some length the important impediment of consan-
guinity.
THE IMPEDIMENT OF CONSANGUINITY
We have here to discuss the important and much
debated question whether and how far consanguinity
is a natural diriment impediment to marriage. By
consanguinity is meant an}' blood relationship contracted f
through descent from the same parents or ancestors,!
e.g. the relationship of parent and child, of brother and
sister, of cousins, of uncle and niece, of aunt and nephew.
Consanguinity depends on identity of blood transmitted
from one generation to another. It, therefore, requires
a certain degree of proximity of relationship * since after
a few generations identity of blood becomes lost in the
parties by the infusion of new blood. " In every genera-
tion," writes St. Thomas, f " a new infusion of blood
occurs whereas identity of blood is the cause of con-
sanguinity." And, therefore, there is a limit bej'ond
which we do not proceed in reckoning relationships of
consanguinit3^ We shall here consider onl}' the closer
plood-relationships, and shall begin with the relation-
lip of members of the same family, i.e. of parent and
lild, and of sister and brother.
* We need not consider the direct line here. By the time that a
lew infusion of blood occurs in this line, marriage would be out of
le question,
t Suppl. ad 3 partem, LIV, 4.
444 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The general relation of the primary and secondary
laws of nature to the grades of consanguinity will readily
be understood. All grades of consanguinity that render
impossible or seriously impede the attainment of the
essentials of the primary end, i.e. the birth and rearing
of children, and, we may add, those that would wholly
oppose the natural and essential relationship obtaining
between parent and child, are forbidden by the primary
laws of nature. Any degrees that impede the attainment
of the secondary ends or the perfect attainment of the
primary are forbidden by the secondary laws. Any
degree of relationship that opposes the primary laws
would act as a universal bar to the marriage union,
prohibiting it in every case. A degree that opposes
the secondary laws only, though in general a natural
bar to marriage and a diriment impediment, might,
nevertheless, through the intervention of the proper
public authorities, be overlooked in certain difficult
circumstances so as to allow the contracting of the
marriage imion.*
Parent and child.
In one of its grades, consanguinity is certainly an
impediment to marriage according to the primary laws
of nature, viz. ~in the case of parent and child. For,
though under such a union, the primary end of marriage,
i.e. the birth and rearing of children, may be attained
(non totaliter toUitur), nevertheless, (i) the gaining of
this end is seriously impeded ; and again, (2) such a
marriage reverses the essential natural position of parent
and child. t
(i) Speaking generally, it is possible that in a single
case a healthy child should issue from the union of
blood-relations. But the general tendency of such
unions is undoubtedly prejudicial to the health of the
child. The deleterious results of close relationship in
♦ See p. 418-19.
t Seo p. 418, note.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 445
the marriage union do not, indeed, always manifest
themselves in individual cases, and a fresh infusion of
new blood into the line may even have the effect of
neutralising the deleterious consequences already con-
tracted but not manifested in a single case, and so these
consequences may never actually appear.* But the
general tendency of the consanguine marriage is certainly
prejudicial to offspring, and such marriages have only
to be practised on a sufficiently large scale in order to
manifest their true character as intrinsically and essen-
tially harmful to the child, f
Now these consequences are not all deleterious in
the same degree to the child. Where the parents are
very closely related the consequences are of a serious
character, and in these cases nature prohibits the con-
tracting of marriage, and her prohibition varies in
effectiveness and necessity according to the degree of
closeness holding in the relationship. As, however, the
degree of relationship diminishes, the effects also are
found to diminish until finally a point is reached where
* " Breeders of domestic animals inform us that the mixing in of
even a drop of unrelated blood is sufficient to neutralise the injurious
effects of long and continued close- in-breeding " — (Westermarck,
op. cit. p. 339).
t There can be no doubt, for instance, about the terrible effects
of continued in-breeding between persons related collaterally in the
first degree. The Veddahs of Ceylon are said to be given to this
terrible custom, and the effect is given by Mr. Bailey {Transac. Ethn.
Soc, N.S., II. 294 ; quoted by Westermarck) — " the race is rapidly
becoming extinct ; large families are all but unknown." And if
such are the consequences of this particular degree of consanguinity
in parents, more terrible still would be those attending the marriage
of parent and child.
But whereas nobody would seriously attempt to question the
consequences in the case of the two very close relationships just
considered, some writers have called in question the existence of
any very bad effects from the marriage of persons related in the second
or third degree. But though in particular cases these evil consequences
may not appear, they certainly do exist, and if such marriages are
multiplied the effect soon becomes discernible in such ways as physical
weakness, epilepsy, neurasthenia and other diseases of body and
mind. The effects of such unions may be deduced not only from the
statistical tables quoted by Westermarck, but also from the state-
ments of breeders of animals as to the deleterious consequences of
itinued in-breeding, also to be found in Mr. Westermarck's work.
446 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the deleterious effects though possible, and in some cases
actual, are so insignificant that nature can no longer
be said to prohibit, or even to discountenance, the
marriage of the parties.
Within the area of prohibition, and judging by the
effects of in-breeding alone, it is not easy to say where
prohibition is by the primary laws and where by the
secondary laws of nature only. Of one thing, however,
we can always be certain ; the primary laws of nature
always extend to the extremes. In the present case
the extreme of consanguinity is that between parent
and child. In no other case is the blood-identity sq
complete as here. " A daughter," writes St. Thomas,*
" is, as it were, identical with her father, since she comes
of his substance (cum sit aliquid ejus) ; but a sister is
not in any such way identical with a brother since she
is not of his substance — rather both are descended from
the one principle." Therefore, if the general tendency
of blood-relationship in any degree is prejudicial to
offspring, the relation of parent and child should be
prejudicial to offspring in the highest possible degree.
Such a union would consequently be prohibited by the
primary precepts of the natural law.f
But if the union of parent and child in marriage is
inordinate in respect of the life of their offspring, it is
doubly inordinate by reason of the fact that such a
marriage not only opposes but reverses the essential
natural relation of parent and child. J As a child, a
daughter is subject to her father, since her existence is
from him. B\' marriage they would be rendered equals.
These two relations cannot be reconciled. Picture a
father seeking his daughter's hand with a view to
• Suppl. ad 3 partem, LIV. 4 ad 7.
t In Sumna Throl. St. Thomas in connection with the case of
parent and child, makes no nu-ntion of the deleterious ellccts on
offspring of the blood-relationship. He rests his whole case for the
essential unlawfulness of marriage between parent and child on the
argument given here in the second place.
J viz. the present parents in relation to each other.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 447
marriage. IVIore unnatural still would be the marriage
of mother and son. As child, the son is subject to
his mother, as husband she would actually owe him
obedience. The marriage of parent and child is, there-
fore, the complete reversion of the essential relations
obtaining in the family.* And for this reason it is.
forbidden by the primary natural laws.
Brother and sister.
The marriage of brother and sister is not opposed to
the primary laws, since the essentials of the primary
end of matrimony are obtainable in such a union.
Children can be born of such a marriage, and there is
not the same degree of danger to the offspring as in the
case already considered. It, therefore, does not fall
under the extreme ban of nature which is the effect of
prohibition by the primary laws. Neither is there any
such reversion of the natural relationships obtaining in
the family as was the case where parent married child.
Nevertheless, the deordination of such a union is so
obvious that no one will doubt that these marriages
are forbidden by nature, at least in its secondary laws»
For, in the first place, the injury to health, bodily and
mental, of offspring is grave enough to justify us in
claiming that the primary end of marriage, if attained
at all, can only be attained in a very imperfect way.f
Secondly, such marriages are opposed to one of the
secondary ends of marriage which is the welfare of the
parents. This latter argument may be expanded in
the following way : brother and sister stand to one
another in a relation which is by nature the closest
possible — a relation which is quite unique in society.
Sprung from the same parents, identical in blood, reared
at the same hearth, they owe each other a special love
and should treat each other with special confidence.
* The argument is fully given in St. Thomas — Suppl. ad 3 parteni
LIV. 3.
t See cases already quoted, p. 445.
1
448 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
And this love and confidence are a natural good to
brother and sister, a good of immense import and value
in their lives. Were brother and sister free to marry,
this beautiful natural relation would be turned into a
source of evil instead of good. Intimacies would be
impossible in such a home. Confidences would be
misunderstood. The possibility of marriage between
persons thus forced to live together before maturity is
attained, would have the effect of giving rein to passions
which it is the business of marriage to regulate according
to law. " Finis matrimonii secundarius," writes St.
Thomas,* " per se est concupiscentiae repressio ; qui
deperiret si quaelibet consanguinea posset in matrimonium
duci, quia magnus concupiscentiae aditus praeberetur
nisi inter illas personas quas oportet in eadem domo con-
versari esset carnalis copula interdicta."
Finally, it is always necessary, as we have already
said, when determining the laws and properties of
marriage, to estimate its effect not only on children
and parents but on society at large, for marriage, above
every other natural institution, aims at the welfare of
society. Now, besides the general deterioration of off-
spring and of society, both in regard to mind and body,
that must ensue, and the moral danger to society
generally which would of necessity follow on allowing
the marriages of brother and sister as a general practice,
Bociety would also be adversely affected in two special
ways not yet discussed by us, viz. first, by the public
confusion that must arise where relationships of parent
and child, and sister and brother have to be ascribed to
the same individuals, a point which it will hardly be
necessary further to enlarge upon ; and secondly, by
the fact that the marriage of brother and sister provides
no additional bonds of friendship and relationship in
society, such as are set up by the marriage of unrelated
persons, and on which society depends so much for its
compactness and strength. When strangers marry, new
• Suppl. ad 3 partem LIV, 3.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 4^9
bonds of friendship and unity spring up between 'their
blood relations. When brother and sister marry, no
new friendships arise, their respective blood relations
being already one, and, therefore society is all the
weaker for such marriages. " Per accidens," writes St.
Thomas, " finis matrimonii est confederatio hominum
et amicitae multiplicatio, dum homo ad consanguineos
uxoris sicut ad suos se habet ; et ideo huic multiplicationi
amicitiae praejudicium fieret si aliquis sanguine con-
junctam uxorem duceret, quia ex hoc nova amicitia per
matrimonium nulli accresceret."
The marriage, therefore, of brother and sister is
forbidden by the secondary laws of nature. It is more
stringently forbidden even than plurality of wives,
because it more seriously impedes the natural ends, and
if allowed generally would be even more disastrous for
the race than polygyny is. So great, indeed, are these
evils that such a union could hardly be allowed except
in such extreme circumstances, that, unless such
marriages were allowed, the race could not survive.*
The remote degrees.
The evils which we have just described as characteristic
of marital unions between brother and sister, attach
also to the unions of persons more distantly related
but in a less degree than in the case of brother and sister.
Here, no doubt, for instance in the case of near cousins,
the effect on offspring cannot but be prejudicial, and the
gravity of this effect should act as a warning to legis-
lators to keep these marriages within such limits as it
is open to the law to impose. Such marriages are also
attended by those other evils which we have described
as present in brother-and-sister marriages. For instance,
fbesides the brother-and-sister relationship, the near-
cousin relationship also imposes a duty of love and con-
fidence ; but such confidence would be both dangerous
* We are here speaking of a condition in which men are bound by
the natural laws only.
VOL. 11—29
450 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and open to be misunderstood, and companionship
would be poisoned at the root, did not the public law so
discountenance the marriages of near cousins that no
expectation of them could normally be entertained.
But though attended with grave evils if practised on
a large scale, such marriages are not so gravely evil that
it can be said of them that they are forbidden, in the
proper sense of that word, by natural law. There is a
vast, and, we might almost say, a qualitative or specific
difference between the marriage of persons belonging
to the same stricth^ natural family unit, i.e. the group
of parents and children, and the marriage of other
persons, no matter how closely related. In the first
case there is always grave danger to the health of off-
spring. Also, the special bonds holding the natural
family together are wholly different from, and even
exclude all the other attractions and liaisons leading to
marriage. In the marriage of persons remotely related,
on the other hand, there is always a good and fair pro-
bability that the children may not be adversely affected
by the relationship,* whilst the danger of perverted
intimacy is not proximate where persons need not be
reared at the same hearth. Accordingly, such marriages
can hardly be said to be forbidden by nature, even by
its secondary laws. Nevertheless, the evils attendant
on them, -particularly where they, become of common
occurrence are real and obvious ; and consequently,
though not forbidding them, nature discountenances
them in every way. To the rulers of communities she
leaves the duty of preventing such marriages by law.
But the warning finger she always holds out to us, in
the disasters with which she invariably visits the too fre-
quent occurrence of these consanguine unions. Though
of positive origin, therefore, the impediment of con-
sanguinity in the remoter degrees may in one sense of
the word be spoken of as natural, viz. that it is set up
• If widely practised, however, the sum of the deleterious effects^
•uch as they are, would quickly and easily become discernible.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 451
by the public ruler at nature's instigation, and that it is
based upon important natural requirements.*
Endogamy and Exogamy.
Endogamy is the custom of forbidding marriages outside
the tribe. Exogamy is the prohibition of marriage within
the tribe, or at all events within some particular clan of the
tribe. Amongst some savage races endogamy is practised,
amongst others exogamy. Sometimes the tribe as a whole
is endogamous, the clan exogamous. The reasons for
endogamy scarcely require to be enumerated. It keeps
property within the tribe. It produces a sense of tribal
solidarity, or what Lord Avebury calls " race-pride," f and
of aloofness wliich is not without its value, particularly
in a hostile environment. Where endogamy prevails it is
always found that the tribe is large enough to obviate the
possibility and effects of in-breeding. J
Exogamy was for many years held to be due to causes
which had no connection with the natural laws of marriage
in regard to consanguinity. For instance (a) it was regarded
by McLennan § as due to the capture of foreign women by
the men of a particular tribe when a scarcity of women
appeared in that tribe through the custom of female infanti-
cide. " Thus the men would think more of foreign women
in connection with wiving than of kindred women, and so
marriages with kindred women would tend to go into desue-
tude." {b) Another theory, advocated by Westermarck,
is that exogamy is due to "an innate aversion to sexual
intercourse between persons living very closely together from
early youth," and, " as such persons are in most cases
• " Affinity," is, like " consanguinity in the remoter degrees," a
positive or civil, and not a natural impediment, but, like consan-
guinity, it is based on requirements of nature. Affinity between
husband and wife does not indeed imperil the offspring in any way,
but it is subject to the same grave defects that we have enumerated
in the second instance in connection with the remoter degrees of con-
sanguinity. Persons related by affinity are brought into the closest
confidence with each other, and marriage should not be possible
between them. Also it diminishes the social relationships on which
I society so much depends for its strength and solidity,
t " Origin of Civilisation," p. ii8. Compare the "brother and
sister " marriages of the Egyptian kings.
X See Starcke, op. cit. p. 222.
§" Studies in Ancient History," p. 62. Lord Avebury and others
fall into a curious blunder in their statement that according to
McLennan marriage by capture arose from the rule of exogamy.
Starcke attempts to give some explanation of this blunder (p. 215).
i
\
452 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
related, this feeling displays itself chiefly as a horror of
intercourse between near kin." (c) According to Crawley and
many others exogamy is due to a taboo with which custom
marked the women of the household in the eyes of the men.
In the household, for instance, the sexes lived apart. This
taboo would easily prevent marriage union with the same
females. " Sexual taboo," he writes,* " produces a religious
separation of children in the home ; the father took the boys
about with him while the mother took the girls ; it is after-
wards enforced by the principle of sexual taboo, and its
nxtension by the use of relationships produces the various
forms of exogamy." (d) Lord Avebury,f without having
recourse to McLennan's theory of female infanticide, explains
exogamy as due to the capture of foreign women. In the
beginning all women were common, but a captured woman
was the property of her captor. The other women of the
tribe would soon come to perceive that the captured woman's
was the better position and would desire to " exchange their
nominal freedom and hazardous privileges for the comparative
peace and security of the former." (e) A theory defended
by Spencer | is to the effect that captured women were not
merely slaves but trophies also, and the tribe that had in it
most foreign women would come to be regarded as the
bravest and most honourable. The custom would thus
easily develop into an imperative requirement that wives
should be taken from other tribes either in battle or by
"private abduction." (/) Starcke § explains exogamy as
a result of certain legal considerations. Closely allied
persons are not in law regarded as distinct persons, whereas
the law of marriage required that the parties should be
distinct and independent, (g) Finally, there are the in-
numerable theories connecting exogamy with totcmism.||
We think we arc quite safe in claiming that all these
" positivist " theories of exogamy have given, or are giving
place, in more recent years to the far easier and more natural
explanation which bases exogamy on the requirements of
marriage in regard to consanguinity. The fact that exogamy
was not a mere custom but a law would of itself lead us to
• " The Mystic Rose," p. 443.
t According to Lord Avcbury's theory, in woman-capture is to be
found not only the historical cause of exogamy but of marriage itself
as an institution.
X " Principles of Sociology," I. 621.
§ of>. cit. p. 233.
II For these sec E. Crawley, " The Tree of Life," p. 177, and Sir
J. G. Frazer in " Totemism and Exogamy," III. 445.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 453
think that exogamy was based on rational grounds and that
it did not arise out of mere accident. And the most rational
ground that one can conceive is to be found in the end which
all would admit to be important, and which exogamy was
itself exceptionally fitted to achieve, viz. the prevention of
marriage among near kin. " Each successive bi-section of
the community," writes Dr. Frazer, * " was dehberately
instituted for the purpose of preventing the marriage of
near kin," and again, f " that the exogamous system of these
primitive peoples was artificial, and that it was deliberately
devised by them for the purpose which it actually serves,
namely, the prevention of the marriage of near kin, seems
quite certain. On no other reasonable hypothesis can we
explain its complex arrangements so perfectly adapted to
the wants and ideas of the natives." J
It has been claimed by Mr. Westermarck that savages
could not possibly have possessed such a knowledge of the
physiological effects of incestuous marriages as would induce
them to introduce a law based on " sagacious calculation "
of these effects. But surely after experience of many genera-
tions it would be possible for a savage tribe, to which physical
vigour would be of more importance than any other posses-
sion, to gauge, if not in detail, at least in a general way, the
effects of these incestuous unions, and they would have all
the greater opportunities of studying these effects if at any
period in-breeding became common through -want of outer
friendly relations with other tribes. As Sir Henry Maine §
remarks, it is not difficult to suppose that the tribes that
discovered the use of fire and selected the best forms of
animals for domestication and of vegetables for cultivation
might also be capable of discovering, after an experience of
centuries, that healthier children were born more generally
from unrelated than from related parents. That the moral
effects also of allowing marriages between people of the same
• " Totemism and Exogamy," IV. io6. Exogamy was almost,
though not absolutely, infallible as a preventive of marriage among
near kin. It would fail to prevent marriages of father and daughter
under the matriarchal system, where the children belonged to the
tribe of the mother. But for these cases a tribe could rely on the
instinctive horror with which such marriages would usually be
regarded
t ibidem, p. 134.
X Of course this principal purpose of exogamy would not exclude
other subordinate purposes also, e.g. the obtaining of wealth with
their wives, and also the extension of tribal influence. On this, see
Le Roy, op. cit. p. 108.
§ " Early Law and Custom," p. 228.
454 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
blood were known to the savage races is evident from the
precautions taken to separate the sexes even from early
youth.
But Lord Avebury asks, is it reasonable to suppose that
in order to prevent a man marrying a very few women to
whom he was closely related he would be forbidden half the
women of the tribe to whom he was not related at all ? Now
this difficulty rests on an entire misunderstanding of the
position ; for, first, these tribes were for the most part
consanguine tribes, and, therefore, in general ail the men and
women would be related. Secondly, as Westermarck himself
confesses, the forbidden degrees were far more numerous
amongst the savage tribes than amongst civilised peoples.*
Of a certain savage race Westermarck relates that a man of
the tribe " will not marry a girl whose relationship by blood
to himself can be traced, no matter how distantly it may be."
Thirdly, it is pointed out by Starcke f that as a rule exogamy
affected not the tribe but the smaller clans composing the
tribe, and that, though it is not quite certain, there are
nevertheless reasons for believing that the clan was always
a group of kinsfolk either known to be related by blood or
kept together by the idea of common descent. J
We think, therefore, it can be said with certainty that
exogamy was not due to any such accidental causes as are
enumerated in the beginning of this note, that it represented,
on the contrary, some kind of reformatory movement amongst
the savage peoples, and tliat it was a device adopted in
order to prevent the marriage of kin. " Exogamy," writes
E. S. Hartland, F.S.A.,§ " as generally understood, has
nothing to do with race or nationality. It is simply the
savage rule corresponding to our title of prohibited degrees.
A man may not marry . . . one who is akin to him, therefore,
he may not marry . . . any member of his clan."||
• op. cit. pp. 297, 307. On grounds of consanguinity, therefore,
even the whole tribe miglit easily be excluded.
t We cannot be certain about the correctness of the first part of
this opinion.
X op. cit. p. 224.
d Essay in series of Anthropological Essays to Dr. Ed. Tylor
(1907), p. 202.
II Wc think it fair to state that in his work, " Totcmism and
Exogamy," Dr. Fra/cr, having explained (the quotations have already
been given) exogamy as a device for preventing the marriage of near
kin, proceeds llicn to modify this clear statement by adding that
thia is rather to be regarded as the clTect of exogamy, than the conscious
purpose in the mind of those who introduced it. The uavagc law-
givers in the case only acted as " instruments in the hands of that
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 455
APPENDIX
Historical
polygyny
The question arises as to how far polygyny is practised
amongst the savage races. It is certain that many of the
lower races are polygynous, but not so many as their low
moral condition and their slight opportunities for develop-
ment and for the entertaining of the higher natural
ideals, would lead us to expect. Mr. Westermarck quotes
innumerable instances of savage peoples who are strictly
monogynous, and they include some of the races farthest
removed from civilisation or from contact with civilised
peoples. Indeed, anthropologists are now fairly well
agreed, and the fact is a very suggestive one, both for
history and for moral science, that the nearer we get
back to the primitive stock, the more prevalent and
steadfast becomes the monogynous union. It is, as a
rule, only when the savage races come into contact with
civilisation that polygyny appears among them, which,
however, disappears again as we enter the area of civilised
peoples. " Monogamy," writes Westermarck,* " always the
predominant form of marriage, has been more prevalent at
the lowest stages of civilisation than at the somewhat higher
stages : whilst at a still higher stage polygyny has again to
a great extent yielded to monogamy." Of exceeding great
interest in this connection is the study in Comparative
Sociology afforded by the races that inhabit the Malay
Peninsula, of whom we have already spoken. These races,
living in comparatively close proximity to one another, are
all monogynous, but their monogyny becomes less and less
defined and firm as they come into closer contact with the
conditions of civilisation. The most primitive of all — the
Semang Pygmies — who have scarcely ever been in contact
with civilisation are, says W. W. Skeat,t " strictly mono-
unknown power, the masked wizard of history, who by some mysterious
process, some subtle alchemy, so often transmutes in the crucible of
suffering the dross of folly and evil into the fine gold of wisdom and
good." We do not think that Dr. Frazer's original view has been
rendered more lucid or more scientific by this addition.
* op. cit. p. 505.
t " Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula." See also P. W. Schmidt,
" Die Stellung der Pygmaenvolker," etc. Amongst these peoples
there is often before marriage, a good deal of licence, a fact which
has led some of the older investigators to consider that the women
of this strictly monogynous people were actually common.
456 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
gamic." Amongst the next higher group, i.e. the Sakai,
there is some polygyny. The third and highest group
(Jakun), i.e. the group that has come into contact with other
Malay and also Indian neighbours, is still monogynous, but
its monogyny is only " fairly strict."
Amongst savage races pure polygyny in the sense of a
number of wives all equal in point of position in the family
is not of common occurrence. Rather, what is found is a
kind of monogynous union, one woman alone being regarded
as wife in the strict sense, namely, the first wife in point of
time, the rest holding the position rather of concubine than
of wife, a position completely subordinate to that of the
first woman in the union, " Amongst the Greenlanders,"
writes Westermarck, " and most of the North American
tribes who practised polygyny, the first married wife is the
mistress of the house . . . Among the Mexicans, Mayas,
Chibchas, and Peruvians, the first wife took precedence of
the subsequent wives, or, strictly speaking, they had only one
true and lawful wife, though as many concubines as they
liked." The same custom is attested by M. A. Le Roy as
prevalent amongst certain African races.*
The most interesting conclusion forced upon us by the
preceding facts, a conclusion which, without the aid of actual
historical record as to the laws and customs of savage tribes,
might not have been suspected, is the following : that even
the most primitive races are capable of appreciating not only
the primary and indispensable laws and requirements of
nature, but also her secondary laws, those, viz. that prescribe
what is necessary for the developed life — at least within
the domain of the family. And this capacity on the part of
the savage is not to be wondered at. For the family is the
first natural union known to man, it precedes the State and
all those positive laws and conventions attaching to State
life of which the savage is comparatively ignorant or oblivious ;
now, the excellences that constitute the better or more
developed life of the family arc excellences principally of
nature herself, and are not the creation of positive law or
convention ; and, therefore, they arc clearly known to the
savage tribes.
POLYANDRY
If, as St. Thomas Aquinas allows, absolute promiscuity
may have obtained in spite of its unnatural character amongst
• " La Religion dcs Primitifs," p. loi.
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 457
certain very degenerate races, then we are not to be astonished
if some of the savage races are also found to be polyandric.
Rarely has polyandry been found to affect an entire com-
munity ; its ravages are generally confined to a few de-
generate households or to a small district. Nevertheless,
there are cases in which polyandry has obtained a fairly
wide latitude and even received some kind of public recog-
nition.
The cause of polyandry is generally two-fold, viz. poverty,
whereby the multiplication of families is rendered difficult,
and scarcity of women, which is quite a common feature of
some savage tribes. " Very remarkable," writes Wester-
marck,* " is the striking coincidence of polyandry with the
great poverty of the country in which it prevails. It seems
to be beyond doubt that this practice, as a rule, is due to
scarcity of women." " Polyandry," writes Hobhouse,t " is
by comparison (with polygyny) an exceptional practice, the
principal causes of which are most probably poverty and a
deficiency in the number of women. On the evidence before
us it is hardly to be described as an institution belonging to
one of the great types of social organisation." Another
reason sometimes quoted for the existence of polyandry is
that it is a " device to preserve the estate undivided." J
Now, it is hardly to be thought that such a repellent means
would be widely chosen for an object so good and reasonable
as the preservation of an estate. However, we must admit
that this explanation gains some colour from the facts to be
described in the following paragraph.
Polyandry, pure and simple, is of extremely rare occurrence
even amongst the most degenerate savage peoples. Where
polyandry exists at all it is generally of the type known as
Thibetan polyandry, in which an attempt is made to intro-
duce modifications in the direction of the monandric union.
Two types of polyandry are to be distinguished. One,
which is of very rare occurrence, is known as the Nair type §
being the kind practised by the Nairs of Malabar, the chief
characteristic of which is the fact that the husbands are
not related to one another by blood. This is the type we
have spoken of as polyandry pure and simple. The other
* op. cit. p. 472.
t " The Evolution of Morals," I. 143.
% Devas, " Studies in Family Life," p. 138.
§ For other characteristics of this type of polyandry see McLennan,
Studies in Ancient History." It is usually accompanied by descent
the female line.
458 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
is kno\vn as the Thibetan type, from the fact that it is the
type followed in certain polyandric districts in Thibet. Its
chief characteristic is that the husbands are all natural
brothers, sons of the same parents. It is the only kind of
polyandry that can be said to be widespread to any degree.
Now the Nair type of polyandry may easily be explained as a
result of degeneracy, poverty, and scarcity of women. Other
causes are possible in the case of the Thibetan type. For
instance, there is the hypothesis, already mentioned, of the
desire to keep an estate undivided. Also it is maintained
by some writers that where many brothers are spouses of
the same woman, only one, the eldest, is really her husband ;
the others are simply illegitimate spouses who cannot marry
through want either of money or of women. If this is true
then the Thibetan type, which is the only system sufficiently
widespread to be of importance, is really not a system of
polyandry at all, but a degenerate monandry. It has been
pointed out that one at least of the very gravest results of
polyandry is avoidable under this Thibetan system, a fact
which would tend to some extent to maintain the system in
being, viz. that under it, the children, although of uncertain
paternit}^ are certain to be of the same blood as each of the
several husbands and, therefore, under any circumstances,
the child would not be wholly without the care due to it by
its real father. Its blood-relationship with all would secure
for it care and support from all.
We may be allowed to mention that by some writers it
has been asserted that polyandry of the Thibetan type must
at one time have been more widespread than it is now or
was at any time in the historic period. One of the proofs
for this assertion is the law of the Lcvirat laid down in
Deuteronomy,* and the Indian allied law of the Niyoga as
laid down in the Law of Manu, both of which are supposed
by some writers to be survivals of an ancient legalised
Thibetan polyandry. In the Levirat it was decreed that
should a husband be childless, at his death his brother should
take the widow to wiiv and rear up children to the deceased,
which children also should be known by the name of the deceased.
This, it is asserted by McLennan, f can only be a survival
from a period when brothers had all a common wife. In
♦ Deuteronomy, XXV. 5-10.
t J'ortniphtly Review, 1877. In the same journal of same year
-Spencer replied (p. 897).
THE ATTRIBUTES OF MARRIAGE 459
the Law of Manu,* it is laid down that not only should the
brother of the deceased marry the widow, but that even
during the life of a childless husband his wife should be
espoused to her brother-in-law, and the children born of
him are regarded as the children of the really childless
parent.
Now, McLennan's hypothesis is on the face of it far-fetched
and even opposed to the facts. It is far-fetched because it
ignores the most natural explanation of all, which is, that
amongst many primitive tribes the property goes not to the
son but to the brother of the deceased, and the widow would
be regarded as included in a man's belongings. And even
when the property went to the son it is impossible that his
widow should pass as wife to the son, who was of course her
own son as well as the son of his father. The widow, there-
fore, would naturally pass to her brother-in-law. But the
really central reason why the widow was taken to wife at
all by the brother of the deceased is clearly expressed in
Deuteronomy, and it very properly fits in with all that we
know of the sentiments of the people concerned, viz. that
the name of the dead man might not be allowed to die.
Amongst a race where childlessness was regarded as a grave
misfortune it is intelligible that the continuance of a man's
name should be considered of importance, and that even by a
fiction of the law he should ha regarded as not without
descendants. McLennan's hypothesis is, therefore, not
necessary in order to explain the facts. On the contrary, it
is even at variance with the facts, for if the Levirat is simply
a survival of polyandry there is no reason why the obhgation
of marrying a brother's widow should be confined to the case
of a childless marriage. The Levirat is, therefore, evidently
essentially connected with the childlessnes? of the first
marriage, and not with any previous polyandric system.
There is no proof, therefore, that polyandry existed in the
past in any wider degree than that in which it obtains to-day ;
and, as we have seen, the practice of polyandry is confined
amongst savage races to very narrow Hmits. Even, however,
if polyandry obtained more widely, and even if it should
ever obtain recognition amongst races now accounted
_civilised, this would in no way diminish the intrinsic evil of
~'ie system, or modify the opposition in which it stands to
lature's primary laws.
* See " Ordinances of Manu " (trans, by A. Cook Burnell), IX. 59.
particular see note i, p. 254.
46o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
INDISSOLUBILITY
As we said before, even the poorest savage races are
capable of realising the things necessary for the family life,,
and necessary even for the better life of the family. And hence
it is that even amongst those savage tribes that practise
divorce, divorce is always recognised as a great evil.* But
many of the poorest savage races prohibit divorce in every
shape, and their opposition to it is determined not only by
the effects of divorce on the race but by the claims of human
affection, the rights of women, and of the children, as well as
those other considerations which have been mentioned in
the present chapter in connection with indissolubility. The
requirements of the family life are easily understood even
by the most untutored mind. And, therefore, as we said,
many of the lowest" races resist divorce. In the Andaman
Islands, writes Westermarck,f " no incompatibility of temper
or other cause is allowed to dissolve the union." " The
Veddahs of Ceylon have a proverb that death alone separates
husband and wife." The same holds true of the Papuans of
New Guinea, of several of the tribes of the Indian Archipelago,
California, the Rocky Mountains, of the Iroquois, the Pata-
gonians (at all events where there are children), the IMaoris
(in large measure), the Solomon Islanders ; also in New
Guinea, and amongst the Zulus.
Where, of course, the level of morality all round is low,
divorce is frequent. But it is a strange thing to find among
the rudest peoples of the earth so many who, moved by the
higher feehngs of justice and affection, are faithful to the
marriage bond through every adversity, and in face of all-
influences urging to its dissolution.
* Le Roy, op. cit. p. 103.
t op. cit. p. 517,
CHAPTER XV
THE STATE— ITS NATURE, ORIGIN, AND END
Definition
The State is a perfect and self-sufficing society, con-
sisting of many families, united under a common ruler,
for the attainment of the complete welfare and life of
the community.
First, the State is a perfect society. By a perfect
society is meant one which is not subject to any other
natural society, its end not being part of or tributary to
the end of any other. The State is subject to no other
natural society. It is the highest of all because its
end is the highest and widest possible in the order of
nature.
There is another sense in which we sometimes speak
of a society as perfect, viz. that it has at its disposal
all the means necessary for attaining its end, in other
words, that it is self-sufficing. The State is perfect in
this sense also. Self-sufficiency is not only an attribute,
but the chief distinguishing mark also of the State, as
will be seen in our discussion on the origin of the State.
The State, therefore, is a perfect society in the fullest
sense.
The State consists immediately of families and re-
motely of individuals. This we know from the position
of the family in the order of nature. In nature there
are three perfectly definite and distinctive units, the
individual, the family, and the State. In the order of
nature the family stands midway between the individual
and the State, just as in the human body the organs
I stand midway between the cells and the whole organism.
% 461
462 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
And just as on account of this order of nature the body
is said to be composed immediately of organs or limbs, and
not of cells, so also society or the State is to be con-
ceived as composed immediately of families and not of
individuals.
The State is an organism presided over by a common
ruler, for without a ruling authority the State could
not attain its end. This we shall attempt to establish
more fully in our discussion on political authority.
The chief end of the State is the attainment of the
complete life and welfare of the community. It is not
the function of the State to procure the welfare of the
individual or the family. The individual and the family
are provided by nature with faculties and energies for
pursuing their own good. The end which the State pro-
cures is the welfare of the social body as such. Again,
a community falling very far short of the degree of
differentiation and organisation required for a State
might succeed to some extent in promoting even the
public welfare. But it is only in the State that man can
develop to the full extent of his natural faculties, and
attain to the complete life.
The meaning and significance of this definition will be
more fully understood from what is now to follow on
the origin of the State.*
The Origin of the State
As we have said, the first and most elementary form
of human society known to nature is the family. We
speak here of the family in a wide sense as consisting
of parents, children, grandchildren, and the other im-
mediate blood relations. These constitute one definite
and distinctive natural unit.
Wc have claimed that the family is provided by nature
with capacities and energies for promoting its own
• " He," says Aristotle, " who considers things in their first growth
and origin, whether a State or anything else, will obtain the clearest
view of them." — Pol. 1. 2.
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 463
welfare. But the welfare which the single family is
capable of promoting is of necessity narrow and ele-
mentary. It extends to the mere daily wants of the
family ; and it falls very far short of what we speak
of as the developed or the higher life of man. In every
relation of life there are things the providing of which
requires the co-operation of many minds and hands ;
and these the mere family could not supply.
But as the family grows, the end which the family
becomes capable of attaining also grows. The children
of the original family increase in number, and in their
turn marry and found new families, and thus a social
environment begins to form in which exchange of
services or division of labour becomes possible, and so
the conditions of the higher or more developed life
begin to be provided. It is to such collections of inter-
related families, united together for mutual companion-
ship and support, that Aristotle gives the name of
" village community " (kw/xtj). Socially it represents a
distinct advance on the simple family, and it represents
also the first distinctive stage attained in the develop-
ment of society out of the family.
But even when the village community * has appeared
and co-operation and organisation have been made
possible and the more developed life has already begun,
many of the most essential requirements may still be
wanting. There will be need, for instance, of some kind
of military organisation for providing protection from
enemies without ; need also of economic organisation
within, so that the units may not be altogether at the
lercy of chance for their supplies from abroad and of
^he weather for their home crops ; above all, there will
)e need of some degree of juridical organisation, i.e. of
common ruler, of a common body of laws for unifying
* Amongst uncivilised communities the horde might be regarded
. corresponding to the family village-community which usually must
ive been consanguine ; the tribe would correspond to the group of
ich communities. For " horde," " clan " and " tribe " see Giddings,
' Principles of Sociology," p. 258.
464 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the forces and capacities of the community and directing
them to one end, and of tribunals of justice for settlmg
disputes between the members. It is only gradually
that such a degree of organisation is finally reached as
really puts the growing community into a position to
provide for all its wants. Before this condition is
reached, aggregation may or may not occur of a small
group of these consanguine villages, but when this con-
dition is finally attained, and in whatever way it is
attained, the community is no longer to be regarded
as a mere group of distinct individuals or units, even
units in alliance, but as a single unit, animated by a
single life, self-centred, independent, self-sufhcient.* It
is this condition of self-sufficiency that marks the end
of the process whereby the family grows, develops itselt
economically, differentiates itself politically, and finally
emerges as a complete State. The condition of self-
sufiiciency is not only the end of the process but also the
differentiating mark of the State. Of course, it is possible
that even a single consanguine village-community might
in some cases so increase in numbers and develop m
organisation under the direction of a family head as to
* Bv the self-sufficiency of the State is not meant a condition in
^vhich every want of the State is actually provided for, but only suclj
r decree o^ T?ganisation and independence as normally enables it
to provTde the means whereby the growing wants of the communi y
^^r be successively met. A community may be unable actually
to provide for in its wants. It may suffer from insulhcient food-
suoSror insufficient money; but if all those organs are present
supply o"^ "1="";!'''' c. . nrovide for the needs of the community,
u'^mat'^-iKM rbe'spoke^^ Much less is self-sufficiency
to be rcSrdcd as the faculty of providing everything out of its own
lerritorv^ Not every Stale, for instance, can supply itse with >^Jieat
or coa . But the organisation should be such as normaly enables a
H ^Srfii t:S;S ^r JeU^ r K KcT cJi Modernen
Staa es ■'? that the conception of self-sufficiency in^ Aristotle is a
needs'' ThisTs fl'^Z^sJl^io lake of the self-sufficing State.
^\^^^t'^vnVi ii^rr^t HiJtetSibyis
conception in I'oUtics, vii. o, / "'"' • 4i,^ orf« revenue
including the capacity of providing for food, arms, the arts, revenue,
religion, and the tribunals of law and justice.
I
c
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 465
reach the stage of self-sufficiency without addition from
outside ; normally speaking, however, a high degree of
differentiation and organisation can only be attained
by the aggregation of several consanguine village-
communities each with its own head. But, as we have
said, in whatever way it is attained, the condition of
self-sufficiency brings the community so developed and
organised under a perfectly new social category, distinct
altogether in end and aim, in potentialities and function,
in its rights and obligations, from the family or limited
group of families out of which it sprang. But it is
because for the most part it is out of the union of several
village-communities that the State is formed that
Aristotle takes account of this ' ' aggregate ' ' form of union
only, in his definition. " When several villages," he
writes,* " are united in a single community, perfect and
large enough to be nearly or quite self-sufficing, the
State comes into existence," and, again, the State is " a
union of families and villages, having as its end a perfect
and self-sufficing life."
We see, therefore, how, naturally, the family widens into
the village-community, and how the village-community
comes gradually to acquire such a degree of organisation
as makes it a self-sufficient society or a State.
Of course, it is to be admitted that a State might also
originate in other ways than as a development out of
the family. For instance, just as to-day a number of
individual men wholly unrelated by blood might meet
together, organise themselves into a single society,
appoint a ruler, and declare themselves a State, claiming
equality with the other States of the world, f so it is
possible that in the beginning many persons unrelated
by blood might come together from different districts,
ttracted, let us say, by the rich pasturage afforded to
* " Politics," I. 2, 3.
t As happened in 1854 in the case of the Orange Free State. The
ommunity in this case had previously been subject to another rule.
Yet in this year it formed itself into a new State in the manner above
indicated.
VOL. II — 30
466 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
their cattle, and these persons might either gradually
or suddenly become organised into a single community
possessed of all the characteristics of a State. But such
accidental associations as these, if they ever occurred,
must have been very rare and exceptional, since in the
pre-historic period it was the blood-tie that offered the
surest guarantee of protection from enemies without,
and of friendship and co-operation within. And, there-
fore, the most natural, and, as a consequence, the normal
way in which the State would take its rise would be as
a development out of the family. It is to this extent
that Aristotle also defends the family origin of the
State. The family was not the only possible origin of
the State, but it was the most natural origin. " The
most natural form of the village," * writes Aristotle (and,
we may add, since the most natural so also the commonest
form), " appears to be that of a colony from the family,
composed of children and grandchildren." It is, there-
fore, right to speak of the State as normally originating
in the famil}' f through the medium of the village-
community.
From all this it is possible to determine in a general
way the manner in which the State first made its ap-
pearance among men. Its first appearance was not of
Budden occurrence ; rather its coming was of gradual
growth and the result of a very long process of develop-
ment. Again, though each stage in the growth of the
State was itself a result of conscious effort on the part
of man, striving ever to meet the growing needs of the
community, and though for this reason it would not be
right to speak of the State as in its origin wholly outside
of human purpose, since to aim at the successive stages
by which self-sufficiency is reached is, in effect and
• /idXiffTo it Kara, tjfvffiv. — " Politics," t. 2, 6.
I Tliis (Iocs not commit us to the " patriarchal " theory of th<"
earliest form of society as defended by Maine. Other opposed theories
might be admitted without prejudice to the view expressed above
that the State is a growth out of the family (See McLennan, " The
Patriarchal Tlicory," p. 27).
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 467
virtually, to aim at complete self-sufficiency which is
the characteristic mark of the State, nevertheless, the
State itself could not be said to have been consciously
and formally aimed at from the beginning. Men do
not, as a rule, aim at conditions of which they never
had experience, more particularly conditions which it
would be difficult to conjure up in imagination without
experience. The State, therefore, was a growth, and
to a large extent it followed the ordinary laws of growth.
It grew to some extent as plants grow, spontaneously
and independently of the contrivance of reason. " It
glided," as Mr. N. L. Newman writes, " imperceptibly
into existence as men became successively aware of the
various needs bound up with their nature." * The
work of forming political societies was, as Mr. Bryce f
tells us, " done by tribes and small city communities
before they began to be conscious that they were forming
institutions under which to live." The State, therefore,
was a growth and was not from the beginning clearly
conceived by reason. But the stages that led to its
formation were, as we said, for the most part devised
by reason, and to that extent the State is to be described,
not like the plant as a spontaneous growth, but as a
human contrivance, as a product of human reason. In
the first chapter of his work on Representative Govern-
ment John Stuart Mill gives an account of two opposing
extreme theories I on the origin of the State, one of
which represents it as a natural growth independent
altogether of human thought and contrivance, the other
of which likens it to a machine that is made by human
hands and is wholly a result of human effort and purpose.
Evidently the view defended by Aristotle and the view
which is given here of the origin of the State occupies
* Introduction to " The Politics of Aristotle," I. 27.
t " Studies in History and Jurisprudence," II. 97.
X The first of these theories is defended by Comte (" Positive
Philosophy ") and in a modified form by Seeley (" Introduction to
Political Science "), the second by the authors of the social-contract
theory — Hobbes, Rousseau, Locke, and Kant.
468 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a mean position between these two theories. The State
is to a large extent a spontaneous growth, a gradual
expansion from the family. But it is largely also a
result of thought, it is a product of many converging
acts of human reason. And as it depended on human
reason in its origin, so it is reason that directs it now,
and forms and shapes it, as the needs of man increase,
to ever newer and higher perfections,*
* Aristotle's account of the origin of Society as a development
out of the family is now very generally accepted by sociologists as
the only account that harmonises with recent investigations into the
organisation of the primitive tribes, which, it is stated, being all
instances of arrested development, must now, as social communities,
be organised on the same basis as that on which society was formed
in its first beginnings. Any attempt at enumeration of writers
upon this subject would here be out of place, but we may point to
one or two authorities. For instance, Maine in " Early Institutions,"
p. 64, writes : " The most recent researches into the primitive history
of society point to the conclusion that the earliest tie which knitted
men together in communities was consanguinity or kinship." And
L. T. Hobhouse (" Morals in Evolution," I. 49) writes : " primitive
and savage society appears to rest generally on kinship. . . . The
clan or group organisation with generally something of the wider
tribal unity forms the normal society of the primitive world." " That
the most ancient forms of government," writes Schrader (" Pre-
historic Antiquities of the Aryan Peoples," p. 393) " amongst Indo-
European peoples are based on the organisation of the family is an
established fact." And Prof. Bury writes (" History of Greece,"
p. < 9) — " the true power in primitive society was the family. When
•we first meet the Greeks they live together in family communities.
Their villages are habitations of a y^pos, i.e. of a clan or family in a
wide sense, all the members being descended from a common ancestor
and bound together by the tie of blood." See also Pclham's " Rome,"
p. 19.
The proofs to which appeal is made in support of this view of the
origin of society and the State, viz. that it is a development out of
the family, through the village-community, cannot be fully developed
here. But a few of these proofs may be briefly mentioned. There
is first (a) the a priori proof, viz that as the ancient families increased
and subdivided they would naturally attain to some degree of organisa-
tion, and as, in the case of these ancient peoples, it would be difficult
to superimpose on this family organisation anotlier formed according
to a completely different principle, so it is necessary to suppose that
the earliest societies were all ba.scd upon kinship, in other words,
that the family and the State organisations were coterminous and
even identical, (h) The second proof is based upon the testimony
of the earliest historians. There is, for instjince, Thucidides' reference
to the eurly villages of Greece, and to the " skilful Allunian general
Demosthenes (who founded hia liopes of conquering Aetolia on the
weakness and disunion of a people still living in unwalled villages
(«OTd KUfjiai Artixiarovt)." The.sc evidently arc the family-village
communities mentioned by other writer!* ; there is also his reference
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 469
We now go on to describe very briefly the later rela-
tions of the State to the family before the State assumed
the condition of complete and final independence of the
family out of which it sprang. Having developed out
of the family, the State, would, in the beginning, and for
to the Ozolian Locrians also living in family villages. Again, Aristotle
himself testifies to the family village-communities of Greece, (c)
Thirdly, all writers are agreed that the most primitive existing tribes
are organised on the basis of family kinship (see, for instance, Spencer
" Political Institutions," p. 272) and it is supposed that these primitive
races reflect the most ancient form of social organisation, (d) Fourthly,
there is the interesting argument based on survivals to the effect that
even when the State had long begun to lead an independent life
distinct from that of the family union, there still remained within it
traces of the family out of which it sprang, for instance, the yevi) of
Athens, the gentes of Rome, all of which were, like the village-com-
munities, groups consisting of a certain number of families. These
family elements would seem to be the same as the old village-com-
munities, because, as Warde Fowler says (" The City State of Greeks
and Romans," p. 38), Aristotle speaks of the inhabitants of a Kcjfirj as
being 6/x6ya\aKTei (suckled with the same milk) a word which, we
know, was later applied to the members proper of an Athenian y^vos.
" These," Warde Fowler adds, " survived into the life of the State
and even to the very end of it, because the ideas of kinship and religion
could not be dissolved among them and were strong enough to hold
them firmly together under the new order of things ; and they remain
. . as a powerful conservative influence holding back the State
from a too rapid development as a new organism, and, as it were,
keeping it continually in mind of the rock from which it had been
hewn." (e) Finally, there is the argument in favour of the family
origin of the State which is developed by Maine and is based on
evidence derived from Comparative Jurisprudence and especially on
evidence derived from the study of Roman Law (see Maine, " Ancient
Law," ch. v.). ,
We think it well to emphasise the fact at this point that the theory
that the State is a development out of the family, is of two forms,
and that in the text above we have not committed ourselves to either
of these forms. We have merely maintained that the State did
originate in the family. The two forms of the theory in question are,
first, that a single family extended itself into a large body of kindred,
this being accompanied by a recognition of superiority in an ihdividual
or in some part of the greater family specially representing the original
parent. The other is the theory that a family grew and extended,
that then aggregation occurred of many of these large units under the
headship either of one or of a body composed of the heads of each.
The large units would in this latter case be the gentes, and it is main-
tained by some that the heads of these gentes were the patres of the
old Senates, and that this was the original form of government. The
fact is that the State may have originated from the family in both
these ways. Aristotle's theory of the union of several villages in the
State would seem to lay special emphasis on the aggregation form of
the theory.
470 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a long time afterwards, retain the outward forma of
the family organisation, for instance, the monarch might
be the patriarch of the community, and it would retain
these forms for one particular reason, viz. on account of
the strength and the rigidity which the family organisa-
tion imparted to societ}^ in the beginning, at a period,
viz. when " coherence," as Spencer tells us, " was still
small and the want of structure great." But in its
nature and purpose the State is, as we saw, distinct
from the family, and, therefore, it is to be expected that
in process of time the State would find itself necessitated
to put off the outward form of government that had
come down to it from the family, and proceed to initiate
and develop other forms of government more suitable
to its own special aims and requirements.
Only in this way could the State have been enabled
finally to put off the shackles that the rigidity of the
family structure imposed upon it, and to obtain for
itself freedom to expand in the directions and to the
degree to which its own capacities entitled it. This
tranwtion from the family form of organisation to other
more proper and more efficient because less rigid forms
is thus described by Seeley,* " The authority of the
pater-familias may or may not be primaeval and univer-
sal ; but certainly in those cases where we are able to trace
the history of States furthest back, the starting-point
seems not to be a condition of universal confusion but
a powerful and rigid family organisation. The weak
were not at the mercy of the strong, because each weak
man was a member of the family, and the family pro-
tected him with an energy of which modern society
can form no conception. ... In these cases, too, we
are able to trace that the State was not suddenly intro-
duced as a kind of heroic remedy for an intolerable
confusion, but that the germ of organisation given by
nature was developed artificially ; that the family
grow into something more thiin a mere family, that
* " Introduction to Political Science," p. 53.
THE STATE-ITS NATURE 471
it developed itself gradually so much, and acquired so
much additional organisation as to disengage itself from
the literal family which now re-appeared as an inde-
pendent form within it, and that at last the conventional
or fictitious family {i.e. the State) acquired a character
of its own, until it first forgot and then at last denied
and repudiated its connection with the natural family."
CONCLUSION — THE STATE A NATURAL INSTITUTION
From all this it is clear that the State is a natural
institution, an integral portion of the design of nature,
and not a product of chance or convention of any kind.
It is natural, first, because it is founded on the most
natural of all social institutions, the family. Secondly,
it is natural because it grew out of the family naturally,
the State being nothing more than the natural expansion
of the family. As the family developed, without
formally aiming at the State, it approached nearer
and nearer to the condition of a State. The State was
only the flower that marked the coming to maturity
of the expanding family. It is, of course, true that the
State might in a particular case take its rise independently
of the family. It might in a particular case be brought
into existence by a compact on the part of a number
of citizens unrelated to one another by blood. But for
the most part it must have arisen out of the family,
and granted that the family expanded at all within the
limits of its natural capacity, it had to expand into a
State — there was nothing else into which it could ex-
pand. Thirdly, the State is natural because its end is
natural, and the State is necessary for that end. Without
the State, development would be impossible. Without
it our natural capacities should have remained capacities
merely. They could never have attained to their natural
objects. All that has been attained in the way of
knowledge and all that has been accomplished by human
energy in the way of art, science, commerce, all, in fact.
I
472 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
that goes to make up our natural civilisation, with the
exception of the merest rudimentary beginnings, aU or
nearly all of this has been attained through the instru-
mentality of the State. And that is why the State was
from the beginning a necessity to man, why, granted
that men aimed at development in any sense, the State
had to appear. It had to appear because without it
human perfection could not be attained, because without
it man would be dwarfed and cramped on the mental
side just as confinement in a dungeon would cramp him
in his physical capacities. The State is our natural
environment, and in it alone the fullness of our natural
rational life becomes possible. " In the State," writes
Mr. N. L. Newman, a man " breathes at last his native
air, reaches his full stature and attains the end of his
being." And as that which is necessary for our physical
life is a natural necessity to man, so the State is
natural, since, without it, development is impossible
and the fullness of our natural perfection remains un-
attained.
The End of the State
The end of the State is the furtherance of man's
natural welfare in regard to those things which cannot be
attained by the activities of the family alone. And
since as we saw the family is capable of attaining to no
more than the ordinary daily necessities, or what Aristotle
speaks of as " mere life," it becomes the function and
end of the State to supply the things that are necessary
for the better or more perfect, or the more developed
life.* Let us see what this implies. It is a well-known
maxim of economic theory that a man's interests are,
generally speaking, looked after more effectively by
himself than by others ; and, therefore, as we have
already said, it can be no part of the natural end of the
State to promote the private interests of any individual
• Tov IV ^T)v. — as Aristotle expresses it
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 473
or family, to take over control of the things that are
strictly and naturally their proper interest, or what we
speak of as their private good. But there is a common
good as well as a particular or private good — a good of
society as such as well as a good of the individual as
such ; and, just as the individual good ought to be
entrusted to the individual, so the common good ought
to be entrusted to, and indeed can be secured only by,
the community or the State. This is the first and chief
end of the State — the promotion of the common good or
the good of the social body as such.
Let us briefly attempt to determine what is contained
in this important conception. By the common good is
not meant the common element in all individual goods
or the things that all men in common require. For
instance all men require food and drink, but these things
it is not the business of the State to supply. The common
good, as we said, means the good of society as such,
and it is opposed to and contrasted with the good of
the individual as such. For instance, it is the business
of the State to protect the community from enemies
without, and to furnish the machinery and prepare
the organisation required for this end. Again, it is
the business of the State to make laws for the com-
munity, to set up tribunals for administering justice,
to establish a proper educational system, to regulate
commerce so that the whole community may not suffer
by the inordinate action of a few individuals. All these
things are matters appertaining to the good of the
community as such. Again, it is the business of the
State to provide and maintain such an environment,
physical and moral, as is required for the welfare of
individuals, physical and moral, for though individuals
may benefit b}^ such an environment, it really is, properly
speaking, a " good," of the whole community, and the
providing of it is wholly outside the capacity of indi-
viduals. Men could not be healthy in unsanitary sur-
roundings. Virtue can prosper only with difficulty
474 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
where the level of public morality is low and the atmo-
sphere morally offensive.
In determining the end of the State, however, one
ought not to interpret the common good in a narrow
sense as including only the things that are in strictness
common, that is, necessary for all. For there are many
necessities that are not the interests of all, which yet
are not to be regarded as private interests merely ;
they are public interests since they are necessary for
the public of a particular place ; and these things may
also be regarded as a part of the common good and as
falling within the end of the State. If a bridge is
necessary, or if a railway is required for developing the
resources of a particular district, the State may reasonably
be expected to concern itself with such things and lend
encouragement and even pecuniary aid — whether out
of the general exchequer or the local revenues is quite
another question.
But the question arises — is the promotion of the
common good in the broad sense just given, which
manifestly is the chief end of the State, also its only
end ? Has the State no concern with the individual
good ? To answer this question we have again to
appeal to the problem of the ground and origin of the
State, on which, as we said in the beginning of this
chapter, depends our whole theory of its end and function.
The State we have seen to be necessary for man because
the individual and the family are not self-sufficient.
Neither individual nor family can supply the things
required for the developed life. The State can, and
does, and is instituted in order to, supply them. The
measure of her function, therefore, is to be found in
the necesflities of man and the inability of the individual
and the family to provide these necessities. Anything,
therefore, which is necessary, whether for the individual
or for society at large, and which the individual or the
family is not in a position to supply, may legitimately
be regarded as included in the end of the State. Here,
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 475
however, we have to institute a narrower rule than that
followed in our interpretation of the common good.
The common or social good is naturally a function of
society or the State, and, therefore, it was right that
we should interpret this idea in the broadest spirit
when determining the end of the State. In other words,
in connection with the common good we may put as
much on the State as it can possibly bear. But the
individual good is naturally the concern of the individual
only, and, therefore, in attempting to define the rights
of the State in regard to the individual interest it is
necessary to confine her rights within the narrowest
possible compass. The State may ' certainly concern
itself with the individual good, but only in so far as
anything is in strictness necessary, and only in so far
as the individual is wholly debarred from attaining the
things necessary. It is no part of the end of the State
to help an individual to amass a fortune, or to avoid
financial failure. But the functions of the State do
extend to the case of paupers and lunatics who are wholly
unable to provide for themselves. Only in one case is
it open to the State to help a failing industry, viz. where
its maintenance is in some way a public necessity and
subvention of some kind is absolutel}^ required. It
could never be allowed to spend public money on a
business in the interest of the individual alone.
From all this we see how wide and all-inclusive are
the end and office of the State. Ever since the seven-
teenth century writers have been .formulating theories
as to the end of the State, which on account of their
restrictive character are spoken of as " limitative " or
" minimisin.^ " theories.* and these stand in direct and
* Two peculiar views as to the end of the State which we have
not found an opportunity for considering in the text are those of
Seeley and Montesquieu (" De I'Esprit des Lois "). According to
the former writer the State, being a natural growth, has no end. We
do not, says Seeley, speak about the object or end of a tree or an animal.
According to Montesquieu each State has its own proper end, con-
sisting of the main object at which each State habitually aims. The
end, e.g. of England is political liberty ; of Athens, culture.
476 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
marked contrast to the broad and essentially reasonable
theory advocated by Aristotle. By some the State is
regarded as possessed of one function only, viz. to pro-
tect individuals from aggression on the part of other
individuals within the same community,* or, what is
practically the same idea, to determine the limits within
which human activities ought to be restricted if they are
not to hinder the activities of others, f Certain writers J
also, though favouring a wider function than this (for
instance, the promotion of the best life) would yet limit
the means which it is open to the State to utilise for
this purpose to the negative function of " hindering
hindrances " to the best life. How different in every
essential is Aristotle's exposition where the end of the
State is represented as in the first place, positive like
the State itself, and in the second place as co-extensive
practically with life, or at all events with the developed
life.
And this, we believe, is the view which alone harmonises
with reason and with fact. For, first, the State came
into existence in order that man might become possessed
of those things which could not be obtained by individual
effort, and the end of anything ought to be as wide as
the necessities that give it rise. Again, the State has
never itself confined its operations within the narrow
sphere assigned to it in these limitative theories. It has
not only intervened to prevent injustice and to hinder
hindrances to development, but it has itself assumed
offices of immense magnitude Ij'ing wholly outside the
sphere of litigation and justice, and has imdertaken
work that could in no sense be regarded as negative or
* e.g. Locke, Hobbt's, Kant. The State so limited in its functions
is sometimes spoken of as Kcchtsstaat, or the legal State, or the police
State. Aristotle makes special reference to this theory in " Politics,"
III. 9, 6 — "nor docs the State exist for the sake of . . security
from injustice,"
t Spencer, "The Man versus the State," p. 105. In "Justice,"
p. 23 he declares that the end of the State consists in preventing
interference with the carrying on of individual lives.
J liosanquet, " Philosophical Theory of the State," p. 190.
THE STATE—ITS NATURE 477
preventative. And what the State normally does may,
as a rule, be regarded as consonant with, or- rather as
a part of its natural function. The State, therefore,
has, in its own operations, set at nought every limitative
theory, as cramping and hindering it, and as falling
short of its own capacity for good, and we believe it is
for this reason more than any other that political
theorists have of late years shown so marked a tendency
to discard what is called the modern for the more ancient
theory of the end of the State. "As to the question "
(of the limits of State action), writes Sir Frederick
Pollock,* " I do not think it can be fully dealt with
except by going back to the older question — what is
the State for ? And although I cannot justify myself
at length I will bear witness that for my own pact I
think this is a point at which we may well say ' Back
to Aristotle.' " It is this broad and only practicable
view of the end of the State that will be allowed to
influence us in the solution of the problem now to
follow.
OF GOVERNMENTAL INTERFERENCE
From what we have said in regard to the end of the
State, it is easy to deduce in general terms the proper
limits of the right of governmental interference with
human liberty, since the extent of this right is deter-
mined by the end of the State, {a) The State, subject
to a certain exception to be mentioned presently, can
interfere in the free action of individuals in so far as
the general or public interest requires, (b) The State
can interfere with human liberty even in the interest of
individuals, wherever an individual cannot reasonably
be supposed to look after his own interest, but, then,
only in matters of supreme importance.
(a) The free and unrestrained pursuit of their own
interests by private individuals will sometimes lead
* " History of the Science of Politics," p. 124.
478 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
either to the neglect of things essential for the community
or even to the positive infliction of harm on the whole
community or a large part of it. In these cases inter-
ference by the State may be imposed as a duty, or
may at least be regarded as falling within the rights of
the State as determined by its end. Thus, landowners
might easily be led to neglect the cultivation of forest
land, on account of the slow returns which afforestation
affords ; in that case, since timber is necessary for the
community, the government would be justified in in-
sisting on some of the land being devoted regularly to
the cultivation of timber. It may also interfere to
prevent the too rapid depletion of mines or fisheries, to
terminate disputes, even compulsorily, between em-
ploj^rs and employed, or for any purpose connected
with the general good.
{b) Again, though the State should not act as a sub-
stitute for the individual, taking over the care of his
private interests, as a mother cares for her child, still
sometimes there is question of genuine inabilit}'' on
the part of individuals to protect themselves against
others or against themselves, and in these cases the
State should lend its aid, at all events where the number
of individuals affected is so great that their combined
interests might be regarded as public and not as private.
The State, for instance, might interfere so as to protect
the people from the sale of spurious articles, prohibit
medical practice on the part of quack doctors,* suppress
the sale of very injurious intoxicants, close unsanitary
meat-shops, exclude unqualified apothecaries from busi-
ness, etc., etc., for though in all these cases it is, strictly
speaking, the fault of the individual if he is injured, still
a certain inability to provide for themselves may be
pleaded, an inability due either to the strength of tempta-
tion, or to poverty, or to innate carelessness or stupidity ;
and in such cases, therefore, it falls within the rights
• Or, as Sidgwick says, at all events debar them from the right
oi demanding fees.
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 479
of the State to provide the things that exceed the
capacity of the individual and the family.
We said in the course of our argument that the State
has the right of interfering with the liberty of the sub-
ject in the interest of the communit3% but subject to an
exception afterwards to be mentioned. That exception,
we now go on to explain. The State has no right of
interference in the essentials at all events of those rights
which are fundamental in human nature, which precede
the State, and are the foundation on which the State
itself is built. These rights are a man's own right to
life, and a man's right to marry and to found and rear
a family. For no reason could the State prevent a man
from obtaining the necessary food. For no reason
could the State prevent a man from marrying and found-
ing a family. The first of these two statements will
scarcely be questioned by anybody'. The second will
in general be allowed. In general, it is admitted that
every man has a right to marry and to found a famil}'
without interference from the State. But, at times, views
have been defended as to the right of the State to control
the number of marriages and to limit the rights of parents
in the rearing of their children, which are undoubtedly
incompatible with the most essential features of the
rights of a man over himself and his family. Of these
views a brief exposition and criticism will be attempted
in the two following sections.
i^hi
The alleged right of the State to restrict the number of
marriages.
In a country," writes Mill,* " either over-peopled or
reatened with being so, to produce children beyond a
very small number with the effect of reducing the reward
I of labour by their competition is a serious offence against
Ml those who live by the remuneration of their labour."
• " On Liberty," p. 64.
480 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
And again — " The laws which in many countries on the
Continent forbid marriage unless the parties can show
that they have the means of supporting a family do not
exceed the legitimate powers of the State, and whether
such laws be expedient or not (a question mainly de-
pendent on local circumstances and feelings) they are
not objectionable as violations of liberty. Such laws
are interferences of the State to prohibit a mischievous
act — an act injurious to others, which ought to be a
subject of reprobation and social stigma even when it
is not deemed expedient to super-add legal punishment.
Yet current ideas of liberty which tend so easily to real
infringements of the individual in things which con-
cern only himself would repel the attempt to put any
restraint upon his inclinations when the consequences
of their indulgence is a life or lives of wretchedness and
depravity in the offspring, with manifold evils to those
sufficiently within reach to be in any way affected by
their actions."
For two reasons it is maintained that it is within the
power of the State to restrict and regulate the number
of marriages — first, because of the effect on society — i.e.
either the food supply will fail, as Malthus claimed, or
wages will be disastrously reduced as Mill maintained ;
secondly, because of the effect on the children born of
these marriages ; these children, it is maintained, will
be born into poverty and ill-health, and in general into
an existence which, instead of a blessing, will be a burden
to them all their lives. Let us briefly attempt to
examine these reasons.
The old Malthusian doctrine based on the hypothesis
of a limited food-supply, scarcely needs to be seriously
considered now-a-days, so much has the number of its
adherents been reduced, so clearly has it been disproved
by actual events, and so far is it opposed to what we
now know of the conditions necessary for a continued
food-supply. It is disproved, first, by actual events.
The population of the world has gone on increasing,
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 481
and yet the food supply has not failed us, and if diffi-
culties are sometimes felt in regard to it, these diffi-
culties are brought about either by insufficiency of
labour, and, therefore, as a result of under-population
rather than of over-population, or through bad organisa-
tion. At one time the world was disorganised through
want of proper connection between the different markets
of the world. The opening up of all the markets, and
their better connection through increased transit and
other facilities, have made it clear that food can always
be made available where it is required, and that no
matter how great the rate of consumption, production
can always be faster still. Indeed, taking things as
they are, the danger of over-population if ever it existed
would seem to become more and more remote as civilisa-
tion increases, and as industry and the efficiency of
nations grow. The enormous increase that has taken
place in the number and extent of cities, the speeding
up of industry, not to speak of the greater ravages pro-
duced by modern warfare as compared with the old,
all these factors are likely to set up an opposing danger
to that considered by Malthus, the danger, viz. of under-
population, or the general deterioration of the race ;
and if the balance is to be kept between loss and gain
so that the population may be maintained at the normal
level, it can only be by multiplying marriages as much
as possible, and more especially by encouraging a habit
of early marriages.
Again, we said that the doctrine of Malthus was
disproved by what we now know of the conditions
necessary for a continued food-supply. The rate of
increase in the food supply is, according to Malthus,
I necessarily lower than the natural rate of increase in
the population. That theory, if ever it accorded with
Iruth, a supposition which is not supported by history
m the past, is directly at variance with the principles
pf production under modern conditions. Under the
old conditions, production was almost wholly a function
VOL. II — 31
482 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of the natural forces only. The human agent could
get out of the earth only what already he found existing
in the earth through the operation of the ordinary forces
of nature. He could not add to the efficiency of these
forces. Under modern conditions the extent of pro-
duction is a function to a very great extent of human
efficiency. It depends nearly, if not quite, as much
on the brains of man as on the natural productiveness
of the land. Operating with the natural forces inherent
in the earth there are now engaged, in the production
of the food-supply of the world, other forces which are
purely human and mental in character, a knowledge of
biolog}', of chemistry, of pathology, whilst the prepara-
tion and distribution of that food supply are almost
wholly dependent on human knowledge, ingenuity, and
skill. For these reasons it is highly important for the
continuance and increase of the world's food-supply, and
particularly now that land everywhere is being subjected
to the process of intensive cultivation, that the human
element should not be wanting, that men should be
plentiful, that wherever there is natural wealth to be
produced there mankind should abound. Human energy
and ingenuity can produce food much faster than the
human appetite can devour it. For increased food
supply what is wanted is increased supply of human
hands, not a smaller number of mouths consuming what
is produced.
We now come to the consideration of Mill's two argu-
ments. The supply of labour, he tells us, is to be kept
low if wages are to be high. What a cruel alternative
is here left to the workman, and how far opposed to the
kindly economy everywhere evinced by nature in ita
dealings with men. The poor man, in Mill's theory,
muHt either remain single or starve. To Mill the other
alternative docs not seem to have occurred, viz. that
if wages are insufficient it is the duty of capitalists to
forego some of tlieir own profits and to pay a better
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 483
wage. The theory imderl3dng Mill's argument, that the
'■ wages fund " of a nation at any time is a fixed sum
and incapable of increase, is now quite obsolete.
To Mill's second argument we attach much greater
importance, not because of its greater truth, but because
it is an argument which finds frequent utterance in
present-day discussion on the topic of marriage. Unless,
says Mill, the number of marriages, particularly amongst
poor people, is regulated by the State, children will be
born into an environment which is incompatible with
welfare whether in the physical or the spiritual order.
They will be poor, miserable, sick, maimed, and vicious.
Both the children themselves and society at large will
be the unfortunate sufferers.
Our answer, which will be brief, will be given under
distinct headings as follows : —
(i) The State has no more right to prevent marriages
amongst the poor than to put the poor out of life alto-
gether. Individual existence and the institution of the
family precede the State, and, therefore, though the State
may issue regulations with regard to marriage, it has
no right to prohibit marriage totall}- to any man or class
of men.
(2) To interfere with marriage, to prevent it, because
of the poverty or misery of the parties, is to interfere
with, and stop up the fount of life, to endanger the con-
tinuance of the race at its very source. It will be said —
but do not the natural impediments themselves place
conditions on freedom in regard to marriage, and do
not, therefore, they also interfere with life at its fountain
source ? We answer — the fountain source of life, like
any other fountain source, has need to be interfered
with in the sense of cared for and guarded, so that it
may remain pure and undefiled, that is, so that it may
remain a fitting means for the promotion of its natural
end, which is the continuance of the race. And the
natural laws of marriage, as also the natural impedi-
ments, are all laws designed to promote that end. But
484 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the kind of interference advocated by Mill is interference
for an opposite purpose, interference, viz. for the purpose
of preventing increase, preventing the end of marriage,
and its criminal character is not in the least modified
by the fact that the births that it is designed to prevent
are births that occur in unfortunate circumstances.
Interference which runs counter to the end of marriage
can never be justified. The attempt, therefore, to
prevent what are spoken of as " luckless marriages " is
most unnatural and opposed to the very idea of marriage,
and to the welfare of the race.
(3) The statement of the old philosophers that
existence is better than non-existence is not to be re-
garded as a mere empty metaphysical assertion ; it is
the statement of a highly important practical truth
and is attested to both by reason and experience. To
every man whether poor and miserable, or rich and con-
tented, existence is a very great good ; in proof of which
we may mention the fact that every man and animal
will fight against annihilation, and struggle by natural
instinct to remain in existence, even in spite of the
misery and pain which existence often involves. And
just as present life and existence are better than subse-
quent non-existence, so they are also better than previous
non-existence and better than non-existence absolutely.
To say, therefore, that an injury is done to a child be-
cause he is brought into the world in miserable sur-
roundings or with little prospect of health or happiness,
is in one sense true and in another sense absurdly false.
It is certainly better to bring children into existence
under favourable auspices than under unfavourable,
but, on the other hand, the good which is to be contem-
plated in marriage is the good of the child, and to the
child, however onlookers may pity his sad fate, existence
is certainly better than non-existence. This argument
will be found to be fully confirmed by the consideration
now to follow.
(4) In all existent things there is much perfection
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 485
and much welfare rendering existence desirable ; the
imperfections and the wants are much fewer than the
perfections and the attainments. Much, therefore, as
we sA^mpathise with the wants of the poor, we cannot
but feel that the picture sometimes drawn of their misery
is to a large extent imaginary and untrue. Even the
poorest people not only have their moments of content-
ment and amusement, but their habitual condition is
often one of very happy contrast to that of many of the
self-indulgent rich whom nothing can content. The
poor, and even the so-called miserable, are often happy,
not only in their existence but in their surroundings,
and though it is the duty of the rich to relieve them of
their burdens, nevertheless the life of the poor and
miserable is not to be considered as all a burden.
Miserable as it is, it is welcome to them, and to have
deprived them of it would have been to do them a
great evil.
(5) What ground is there for believing in any par-
ticular case that the children of poor people will not
one day become rich, or at all events, that they ma}^ not
one day turn out to be comfortable and respectable
citizens ? And what right has the State to deny to
such children their chance in life — for that is, in effect,
what State interference in the circumstances comes to ?
If the State regards it as a duty to prevent marriages
that may, or even probably will, result in criminal or
destitute children, then it should also deem it a
duty to prevent the marriages of the idle or profligate
rich whose children will almost certainly be idle and
profligate and a trial to the community. And if it is
right to give the latter his chance in life, it is right to
give the former his chance also. Speaking on the
latent energies of the poor, and the possibility of
an apparently luckless marriage being turned by the
parties, or by nature, to good account, Bernard
Bosanquet writes as follows : * " This is a case in
* "Philosopliical Theory of the State," p. 68.
486 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
which authoritative interference (except on account
of ver}' definite physical and mental defects) must
inevitably defeat its object. No foresight of others
can gauge the latent powers to meet and deal with a
future indefinite responsibility ; and the result of
scrupulous timidity in view of such responsibilities is
seen in the tendency to depopulation which affects that
very country from which Mill probably drew his argu-
ment.* To leave the responsibility as fully as possible
where it has been assumed is the best that law can do,
and appeals to a spring of energy deeper than com-
pulsion can reach."
(6) The prevention of marriages in cases in which
the means of subsistence seem to be wanting will not
secure the end desired. If marriage is prevented illicit
unions will be formed, and the children born of them
will be, of all children, the poorest, inheriting all the
misery, and none of the protection, the care, and the
love, to which legitimate children, however poor, have
a legal right, and which will in most cases be faithfully
accorded to them.
The rights of the State in regard to education.
As we saw, the end of the Stale is to provide for the
higher or more developed " good " in so far as its attain-
ment exceeds the capacity of individuals and the family.
Let us see in the light of this principle what is the position
of the State in regard to education. For the sake of
simplicity we shall here confine our discussion to the
case of primary education, or the education of children.
Education is essentially a part of the process of
rearing. By rearing is meant the training of the child,
both in body and mind, and education is that part of
rearing which relates to mind. And, since the rearing
* Alas ! in this year 1Q15, quomodo ploravit Rachel filios snot —
her unlK)rn children, the bravest of the brave, cheated even of life
and existence I In her day of trial how much France must have
desired their service and their devotion I
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 487
of the child is primarily and essentially a duty and a
right of parents, so the education of the child is primarily
and essentially their right. The parent may hand over
the child to be nursed by another, or taught by another,
whether a private teacher or the State, but the final
responsibility to nature and to the Author of nature
falls on the parent. The employed teacher is in nature's
eyes only the deputy of the parent.
Now whereas, generally speaking, parents can by
their own united efforts provide for the bodily welfare
of their children and in some measure can provide also
for their mental welfare or their education, to a great
extent and normally this latter side of the process of
rearing is something that exceeds the means, the
capacities, and the opportunities of parents ; and it
is for parents exclusively to determine how their own
efforts in these circumstances are to be supplemented
by the aid of others. If by means of combination
amongst many families it is possible to maintain a private
school, conducted according to a programme either
drawn up or at least approved by themselves, then it
is their right to maintain such a school and without
interference from the State. In two cases only would
interference be possible, viz. where it is evident that the
child is not really being educated, for then an injustice
is being done to the child, and the State could interfere
on its behalf just as it can interfere if a child is not being
properly fed. But such interference is, in general,
invidious, and so far as education is concerned could
be justified only on very rare occasions. The other case
arises in connection with the requirements of the common
good. The good of the State might require a certain
standard of education, higher than that normally given,
and the State could legitimately insist upon this standard
being attained by all.
As a rule7 however, parents cannot afford to main-
tain and equip schools like those just mentioned. The
maintenance of an efficient school is costly and trouble-
-488 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
some, and, therefore, parents have a right to call upon
the State to provide the opportunities for education
■which they themselves cannot afford to give, and the
State is under an obligation to provide these oppor-
tunities, i.e. to build and equip schools, to pay the
teachers, to maintain the schools, in so far at least as
these things are beyond the means and the capacities
of parents. But even where education is fully provided
by the State, it has to be remembered that the first
right and the final responsibility are the parents', and
that in providing the means of education the State is
only fulfilling its natural function of supplementing the
efforts of parents in regard to the requirements of the
developed life. The State, therefore, is not justified
in wresting the child from the parent or ignoring the
parent in the domain of education. It is not justified
in forcing on the children a system of education which
is unacceptable to parents, or a system to which they
conscientiously object. In certain matters, of course, the
State is free not to consult the parents, those matters,
namely, in which the parents are not supposed to be
capable of judging aright, as for instance, whether
mathematics should be taught in the school, and to
•what extent, and according to what methods ; but there
are certain matters of which parents are quite competent
judges, or at all events, of which the State and the
public authorities are not the appointed judges, for
instance, religion, and in these connections the ad-
vantageous position which the State occupies through
being necessary to the parent, gives it no right to force
a system of education or a set of principles on the
children, of which their parents disapprove. What,
therefore, is the duty of the State in the circumstances
in question ? The State may, of course, provide its
own schools, conducted according to its own methods
for all those who are willing to make use of them ; but
it should provide also schools approved of by parents,
and equip and maintain them at the expense of the
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 489
State, provided, of course, that the requisite number of
families is present to constitute a school. In that case,
as in every case in which public money is devoted to
any work, the State enjoys a full right of inspection and
examination so that the public may have some guarantee
that its money is being properly applied. But the fact,
we repeat, that the State does provide public money for
education, and that consequently it is in the advantageous
position of being necessary to parents, no more gives it a
right to take the children out of their parents' hands and
educate them according to its own ideas exclusively,
than its necessity in the interests of public order bestows
on the State a right of forcing a particular kind of dress
or food or habitation on all those who are in the unhappy
position of having to appeal to it for aid against thieves
and robbers. Where reasonable aid is asked of the
State, aid should be given ; but in seeking for such aid
men are not to be regarded as forfeiting or surrendering
in any way the rights and liberties which nature bestows
on them as human persons, or as parents entrusted with
the duty of caring for their children. Nobody would,
of course, expect the State to provide schools for every
handful of children whose parents entertain conscientious
objections to the system that is actually provided by
the State. But wherever a multiplicity of schools has
to be provided, the State is bound to make special pro-
vision for any large and important body of parents
making common appeal to the State, and resting their
appeal on the same group of conscientious principles or
difficulties.
Nor should the State complain about the multiplicity
of systems that may thus be generated. For, in the
first place, the groups requiring and deserving (from the
point of view of numbers) special treatment are never
many. And in the second place it is a good thing that
the whole educational system of a country should not
be cast in a single mould. The single-mould system
advocated by State monopolists in the domain of educa-
490 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
tion is bound to hamper and repress initiative and
originality, and even that spirit of freedom which every
modern government either genuinely aims at, or pre-
tends to aim at, encouraging amongst its subjects.
Diversities of spirit are widely encouraged in modern
times in the domain of university education. There is
no reason in the world why similar encouragement,
always, of course, supposing that the State is given the
free exercise of its right of inspection and examination,
should not be extended to the elementary sphere as
well. Even such a strong advocate of governmental
interference in matters moral as John Stuart Mill was
fully alive to the advantages attaching to freedom of
development in the sphere of elementary education.
" All that has been said," he writes,* " of the importance
of individuality of character, and diversity in opinions
and modes of conduct involves, as of the same un-
speakable importance, diversity of education. A general
State education is a mere contrivance for moulding
people to be exactly like one another ; and as the mould
in which it casts them is that which pleases the pre-
dominant power in the government in the pro-
portion as it is efficient and successful, it establishes a
despotism over the mind leading by natural tendency
to one over the body. An education established by
the State should exist, if it exists at all, as one among
many competing experiments, carried on for the purpose
of example and stimulus to keep the others up to a
certain standard of excellence." We do not consider
that Mill has here succeeded in setting forth the entire
obligation of the State in regard to education. The
State should not merely set up a number of competing
schools with others, leaving these others to depend upon
themselves. The State should be prepared to extend
encouragement and pecuniary aid to all those sclioola
that need and deserve it. But the testimony of so
great an authority is valuable as showing the injury
• " On Liberty," p. 63.
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 491
done to the interests of education itself by any attempt
to bring the whole education of the countr}^ under one
rigid system, or (we may add) by declining to support
in any way those schools in the case of which, whilst
fully acknowledging a right of inspection and examina-
tion on the part of the State, parents still insist on exer-
cising some discretion in matters that, to their mind,
appertain, not to the State, but to themselves and to the
appointed guardians of religion.
APPENDIX
The Social-Contract Theory
We have to distinguish two classes of social-contfact
theories, first, the theories advocated by Hobbes, Rousseau,
Locke, Kant, and Spinoza, according to whom the authority
of rulers is grounded on contract exclusively ; secondly, the
theory of certain scholastic writers, notably Suarez and
Card. Bellarmine, who regard the State as grounded on
nature and the Author of nature, the State being a necessity
of nature, but who consider that pohtical authority originally'
vested in the people as a whole, and could only have been
conferred on rulers through a compact between the members
composing the community. The first form of the theory
we may speak of as the social-contract theory proper : the
,-ccond is only a very modified form of the theory. We shall
therefore, in the first instance, analyse the social-contract
theory proper as developed by Hobbes, its chief exponent,
adding a brief criticism ; then we shall say a few words on
the theory standing in the names of Suarez and Card.
Bellarmine.
In his well-known work, the "Lcviathon " (1651), Hobbes
draws a picture of what he calls the " state of nature," i.e.
the condition in which man found himself before the rise
of the State, and he describes also the manner in which this
condition of nature gave place to the social condition of
nian under the State. He describes first the psychical con-
dition of man in the " state of nature," then his moral con-
dition. The psychical characteristics of the community
were as follows : in the State of nature all men were equal,
not in the juricUcal sense of having equal rights, for at that
492 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
period, according to Hobbes, there were no rights, but in
the sense of possessing equal capacities and powers. There
was no ruler then, and men took advantage of the absence
of a controlHng power to use their equal powers to the best
advantage they could secure, even to the injuring of one
another. In fact, the condition of nature was a condition
of universal warfare — " such a war as is of every man against
every man." This condition of warfare did not, indeed,
entail continuous actual fighting. It consisted in actual
fighting at times, a permanent known disposition to fight,
and the absence of all assurances of peace. " For war
consisteth not in battle only or the art of fighting but in a
tract of time wherein the will to contend by battle is
sufficiently known, and, therefore, the notion of time is
to be considered in the nature of war as it is in the nature
of weather. For as the nature of foul weather lieth not in a
shower or two of rain but in an inclination thereto of many
days together, so the nature of war consisteth not in actual
fighting but in the known disposition thereto during all the
time there is no assurance to the contrary. . . . Whatsoever,
therefore, is consequent to a time of war where every man
is enemy to every man the same is consequent to the time
wherein men live without other security than that which
their own strength and their own invention shall furnish
them withal. In such condition there is no place for industry
because the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no
culture of the earth, no navigation nor use of the com-
modities that may be imported by sea, no commodious
building, no instruments of moving and removing such
things as require much force, no knowledge of the face of
the earth ; no account of time, no arts, no lettcis, no society,
and, which is worst of all, continual fear and danger oi
violent death, and the life of man solitary, poor, nasty,
brutish, and short."
" It may peradventurc be thought," Hobbes continues,
" that there was never such a time nor condition of war as
this, and I believe it was never generally so all over the
world,* but there are many places where they live so now."
• Hobbes, therefore, does not claim historical reality for this
" state of nature " as a condition of the whole human race. Neither
docs Kant : the social compact and the preceding state of nature
are, he says, if they ever existed, only the starting-point in our ex-
planation of the juridical State, a method in other words of con-
ceiving the place of the State in society, its functions and its powers.
On the other hand historical reality is claimed for the state of nature
by Locke and Spinoza. According to Locke it was an exceedingly
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 493
Besides, " in all times kings and persons of sovereign authority,
because of their independency, are in continual jealousies
and in the state and posture of gladiators, having their
weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another."
Hobbes now proceeds to describe the moral condition of
man in the " state of nature." " To this war of every man
against every man this also is consequent that nothing can
be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and
injustice have there no place. Where there is no common
power there is no law ; where no law, no injustice. Force
and fraud are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice and
injustice are none of the faculties neither of the body nor
mind. . . . They are qualities that relate to men in society
not in solitude. It is consequent also to the same condition
that there be no property, no dominion, no ' mine ' and
* thine ' distinct, but only that to be every man's that he
can get, and for so long as he can keep it. . . . Thus much
for the ill condition which man by mere nature is actually
placed in, though with a possibility to come out of it."
In the state of nature, Hobbes proceeds to show, men
are moved by a single all-powerful impulse, that, viz. of
self-preservation ; but from this impulse springs another
which quickly reacts on the very condition of nature in which
it rises, and leads on to another and opposed condition.
This derived impulse is the impulse to seek for peace as a
means to self-preservation. It is from this impulse that
the social-contract sprang — a contract devised to end the
condition of primitive warfare with all its attendant incon-
veniences. This contract was a covenant of every man
with every other to place all their liberties in the hands of
some one man or body of men to whom all should be subject
and who should direct the destinies of all. Its terms were :
" I authorise and give up my right of governing myself to
this man or this assembly of men on the condition that
thou give thy right to him and authorise all his actions in
like manner." Thus, in Hobbes' theory, the pow'er of the
governing authorities is only the aggregate of the powers
shortlived condition, for it was a condition which men would be inclined
to escape from the moment they came into relation to one another
("Treatises on Civil Government"). In Spinoza's view (" Tractatus
Politicus," p. 293) the Jews " gave up their natural rights to Jehovah
in terms of an express contract " {Exodus xxiv. 7). The theory
defended by Rousseau is that the state of nature is hypothetically an
historical reality, i.e. it is the condition in which man must have
existed unless some act of Divine intervention in the very beginning
of history prevented it.
494 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
possessed by individuals, their power, namel}^, of governing
themselves. The ruler as bearing their powers carries in
himself the persons of all his subjects. In obeying him the
subject really obeys himself as existent in the ruler. This
social-compact, Hobbes remarks, being once effected, is
irrevocable.
The qualities of the sovereignly enjoyed by the ruler are
determined bj^ the conditions of the social-contract. In
one place Hobbes maintains that sovereignty is an absolute
power in the sense that a ruler has no obhgations towards
his subjects, and consequently that rebelhon against the
sovereign could never be lawful. This doctrine of absolute-
ness, however, is modified elsewhere with, we consider, little
care for consistency. Though the sovereign, he tells us, has
absolute rights within the terms of the contract, yet these
terms themselves impose limitations on him that are of
immense importance in defining the juridical relations
obtaining between ruler and subject. First, a sovereign
may not interfere with his subjects beyond the terms of
the convention : he may interfere, therefore, only for their
preservation and defence ; secondly, his sovereignty lasts
only for as long as the end is attainable for which it was
conferred, i.e. as long as he is in a position to protect his
subjects. When that power ceases, all obligations to him
have disappeared.
In treating of Hobbes' doctrine of sovereignty we have
gone beyond the subject of the present chapter ; but we
have done so in order that the reader may have a clear and
connected view of Hobbes' whole system,* and because we
• The other social-compact theories are simply variants of that of
Hobbes. In their main principles they are all derived from the
Leviathon ; but the points of dillcrence are interesting. We shall
enumerate these differences under special headings as follows :
(a) The state of nature. Here Rousseau [" L'origine de rin6galit6
parmi less hommes " (i7')i) and " Du Contrat Social" (1762)1 dis-
tinguishes two periods ; first, a period of the equality of all with all,
not in Hobbes' sense that the sum of their powers mental and physical
was equal, but in the sense that everybody had all that he required
for Ills life. It was a condition, too, not of warfare but of Arcadian
peace. As yet language had not been developed for there was no
need of language. As yet the family did not exist except to the degree
in which it exists amongst the animals, i.e. the mother just suckled
her young, it was a period of ease .and contentment for all. Later
on, inequalities arose and the war of all with all. The first great
inequality appeared with appropriation of land. Thence arose
division of labour and all the evils that afflict society. Locke also
(" Two Treatises on Civil Government," i68g) describes the equality
obtaining between primitive nun, but in a much more natural way
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 495
may not have an opportunity later of discussing his particular
theory of sovereignty.
Criticism.
(i) It is possible to view the theory of the " state of
nature " depicted by Hobbes in two ways : either as an
attempted historical survey of the actual state of things
that preceded the appearance of the State, or as an account
of the conditions that would prevail if there were no State
and no ruling political authority set over peoples to preserve
order and enforce the laws of justice amongst them. The
first would seem to be the purpose aimed at by Rousseau,
Locke, and Spinoza — the second by Hobbes and Kant.
Now it will not be necessary here to attempt to criticise the
theory of the state of nature regarded as a survey of the
actual early history of man, since that theory is now dis-
proved utterly by what is known of the origin of the State,
and it is not now regarded as worthy of consideration by
i.any school of writers. Before the State appeared, primitive
len were organised (as primitive societies are organised
;ven now) into societies held together by a force which was
far stronger than that of the unifying forces present in any
Ethan either Hobbes or Rousseau. It was a period of juridical equality,
\i.e. all men having the same faculties with the same ends, they were
kCqual in the sense that one was not subject to another. Juridical
[inequalities arose out of the necessities of society. Kant (" Recht-
islehre," 179C) defends the equality of all in the sense that all have
pequal initial rights to the whole world of possessions.
(b) The condition of morality in the state of nature. Under this
[heading important differences arise. Like Hobbes, Rousseau also
maintains that in the "state of nature" there existed neither law
lor rights nor distinctions of good and evil. Locke, on the other
land, explains that the condition of juridical equality, obtaining
jetween individuals, itself gave rise to a law of justice which was in
'effect that no man should use another as means to his own pleasure
Efor that would be to treat him not as an equal but as a subordinate.
[There existed also a right of property since it is the clear intention of
[the Author of nature that her possessions should be used for the best
Fconvenience. The chief title to property was labour. Kant's theory
is exceedingly interesting. In the state of nature men had rights
[as against one another, and it was to defend these rights that the
3tate was brought into existence. But in the state of nature rights
fere " provisional " only, i.e. they were of no use to men before
State came into existence (p. 158). The function of the State
f"when it did appear was not that of creating rights. The State was a
I" juridical union constituted under the condition of distributive
[justice " (p. 157), for the validating, defining, and defending of rights.
(c) The Social-Compact. Rousseau does not, like Hobbes, represent
[the social-contract as necessary. On the contrary, it was, he says, a
496 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
State, viz. the force of the blood-tie and of the authority
either of the pater-familias, or of the combined heads of the
tribe. In many cases the whole community would consist
of a single family composed of parents, grandparents, children,
grandchildren, and the collateral relations — all governed by
a patriarch ; in another case three or four of these tribal
units would combine under the joint rule of their numerous
heads ; but at no period was humanity made up of isolated
individuals, living under no ruler, and aiming at no sort of
common good. The tribes that constituted the earliest
societies were organised under their respective heads not
only as families but also as incipient States.
This, as we said, is the clear lesson taught us by all recent
investigation into the origin of society, and, therefore, in so
far as the theory of the state of nature is followed at all,
the form which it now assumes is that of a theory of what
the community would be if there were no State, and a theory,
therefore, of the functions which, it is supposed, are proper
device whereby the rich, finding that their possessions were in jeopardy,
fooled the poor into agreeing to the formation of society for the pro-
tection of property in general. The compact when it was made was
two-fold ; first, the fundamental compact, whereby the people
formed themselves into a single community each agreeing to " throw
into the common stock his person and all his faculties, under the supreme
direction of the general will [volonte g^n&rale as opposed to the volonU
de tous or the sum of the individual wills) ; second, that whereby
the ruler is designated. A similar distinction of contracts is described
by Kant, and he points out that in neither can a man be properly
said to surrender his freedom, rather what he docs is to surrender
his wild lawless freedom in order to find again his proper and regulated
freedom in a civil society. He also points out that the obedience
given to the ruler is really given to one's self, as a part of the ruler,
the ruler representing and personating the whole of society.
(d) Sovereignty. In Rousseau's theory the general will is sovereign,
not the volonU de tous. Only in one way can one make sure of the
rule of the general will, i.e. by excluding the operation of parties from
politics. Then only will differences really neutralise one another
and the common mind prevail. The general will may, of course,
appoint representatives. But it cannot really be represented. It
cannot give away its sovereignty. It should, therefore, legislate
directly and not through representatives. Sovereignty has one
function only, that, viz. of legislation. In Locke's theory also it is
the people who arc represented as truly sovereign. The king if ho
acts not in the interest of the people may be dethroned or rather
has already dethroned himself. In Kant's theory the people are
said to be the original sovereign. But they can delegate this
sovereignty. Once it is delegated, however, no course and no defect
of the sovereign can absolve a subject from obedience. Rcbcllioa
under any circumstances is, therefore, a crime. But the execution
of a monarch is the greatest of all crimes — it is the unforgivable sin
of the theologians.
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 497
to the State. Without the State it is maintained there
would be neither rights nor duties, nor justice, nor " mine "
and " thine," nor law of any kind, and, therefore, the con-
dition would be the war of every man with every other.
Now this theory of universal war and universal unmorality
is wholly imaginary and wholly false. In the period that
preceded the appearance of the State, individual was not at
war with individual, because, being members of one family,
their interests were largely the same. Each community
consisted, then, of one immense family. Wives or husbands
were, of course, taken from outside. In some cases the
wife came to live with the man's family ; in other cases the
man went to live with the woman's family. But in every
case the community constituted a single family unit. Their
interests, therefore, were common, their land was common
in the sense that it was vested in the family or the head of
the family^ and, as one eminent modern sociologist tells us,
they defended one another in case of aggression from without
with a fierceness and determination that are unknown to-
day. Within the family community, if disputes arose, they
were decided by the head, i.e. the patriarch. The patriarchal
theory * of ancient society or something akin to it is now
universally accepted. As Sidgwick explains, it " emerges
spontaneously " from what we know of the family basis of
society in the past. The theory of the war of all with all
is, therefore, far less appHcable to the early period here in
question than to the condition of society to-day.
Again, it is absurd to say that before the State appeared
there were neither rights, nor laws, nor " mine " and " thine."
In that period men were ruled by the natural law just as
they are now. There are innumerable laws and rights that
have no dependence on the State, e.g. the law of fideUty
between husband and wife, the right of the parent to the
respect of the child and of the child to the support of its
parents. Before the State arose there was also a " meum
ac tuum." A man had a right, at least, to the things pro-
duced by his labour. In the primeval period, therefore, it
is untrue to say that rights did not exist. Indeed, as Kant
remarks, unless in that period there existed rights of justice
the State would not have been deemed necessary for enforcing
these rights, and it" was the enforcing of these ab-eady
* The word is not used here in its strict sense as opposed to the
matriarchate. We merely mean the theory that the bond that held
societies together in their earliest stages was that of the blood-tie,
and that the earliest societies were ruled by the family heads.
VOL. 11—32
498 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
existent rights that, according to many defenders of the
social-contract theory, was the primary and essential pur-
pose of the State in its first beginnings. Neither is it right
to say that before the State arose there was nothing to secure
the enforcement of men's natural rights. The reason and
conscience of man must always have been operative, and
where these were not sufficient there was available the strong
rule of the pater-famihas, which, as against the individual
delinquent, could count in every case on the loyal support
of the whole tribal community.
(2) Then as to the idea of the social-contract. We have
already pointed out that States may have arisen in particular
cases in ancient times as a result of contract, just as con-
tract gave rise to the Orange Free State in recent times.
But we have to remember that a contract-made State would
be exceedingly difhcult in the primeval period, first, because
in that period men had no experience of the State and no
idea of what it was like, whereas now there are States of
every model to be copied ; and secondly, because in the
primeval period it would have been difficult to superimpose
on the family organisation another organisation independent
of the first and ruled by a different head. To primeval man
the superseding of the great tribal organisation based on
the permanent link of the blood-tic, by another organisation
based on a mere temporary will-act of the citizens, would
seem a wholly superfluous and absurd procedure.
The founding of a State by contract would, therefore, be
exceedingly difficult in ancient times. On the other hand,
the expansion of the family into the State was a normal,.
a necessary, and a natural procedure. The family had to
expand into the tribe and the tribe, granted that it progressed
at all, had to expand into the condition of a State. It is for
this reason that Aristotle speaks of the family origin of the
State as " most in accordance with nature " and, therefore,
as the normal manner in which the early States must have
appeared. Where, therefore, the authors of the social-
contract theory err is in representing as normal and universal
a procedure which, if it ever existed, could never be morr
than accidental and exceptional.
But they arc guilty of a further and more important
misrepresentation still. As we have already pointed out,
the authors of the theory of a primeval " state of nature "
in which neither law nor rights obtained, for the most part
do not regard this condition as an historical reality. Neithei:
do they consider the social-compact as an historical reality.
Their sole purpose in developing this second part of tlur
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 499
theory is to show that the authority of the State is based
upon the consent of the citizens. Now in the next chapter
it will be shown that the authority of the State, even where
the State is founded, as in exceptional cases it has been
founded, by compact on the part of the citizens, is never
based or grounded upon such contract, but on nature, i.e.
the natural necessities which it is the essential purpose of
the State to supply. The State may in particular instances
take its rise, as marriage and the family take their rise, in
contract, but the authority of the State, just like the authority
of the family, is grounded on nature, on the natural position
of the ruler in one case and the parents in the other ; and,
therefore, the theory of the social-contract is wrong, not
only as an historical account of how the State must necessarily
have arisen in the beginning, but also as a theory of the
ground of political authority. We shall see in the next
chapter that the social-contract theory is based entirely on
a confusion of two distinct conceptions — the conceptions,
viz. of the ground of authority and the titles of authority.
Social-contract is in some cases a title of political authority ;
it is never the ground of political authority ; still less can it
be represented as the essential and exclusive ground of
authority in every State.
(3) Finally we may be permitted to remark that to speak
of primeval man, in whatever condition he found himself, as
far excellence the " state of nature," is incongruous and
nscientific. The natural horse, par excellence, is the horse
that is fully up to nature's standard, with all its capacities
developed and its nature fulfilled. So " natural man," par
eKcellence, is man at the high level marked out for him by
his natural capacities, man at his best and greatest. " What
each thing is," says Aristotle (Pol. I. 2, 8,), " when fully
developed, we call its nature."
Suarez and Card. Bellarmine.
A brief word now on the theory of social-contract advocated
by Card. Bellarmine (1542-1621) and Francis Suarez (1548-
1617).* In their view the State is grounded not on contract
but on nature and the Author of nature, because the State
is a necessity of nature, i.e. it is necessary for human welfare
and development. But granted that the State is a necessity
* Bellartnine's defence of this theory is to be found in " De Laicis,"
bk. III. ch. VI ; that of Suarez in " Defensio Fidei Catholicae,"
bk. III. ch. II. sec. 5.
500 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of nature and grounded on nature the question arises, how
does the State come into existence as a concrete reaHty
under a definite form of government, and how does poHtical
authority come to be placed in a single person or group of
persons within the community ? We shall give the ex-
planation offered by Suarez. We must, he tells us, first
consider human society or the State as such, abstracting
from any particular form of government and taking account
of the " corpus communitatis " only. Since society is by
an ordinance of, and in the requirements of nature, a State,
political authority from the beginning, by natural law, vests
in society, i.e. in the whole community.* It is a natural
property of the community, and, therefore, comes into being
as soon as the community becomes a social body and before
any individual or group is set to rule over such community.
But though nature confers political authority on the com-
munity it does not prescribe that the community as a whole
should retain this authority or exercise it immediately ;
on the contrary, the community has the right to place this
authority in the hands of a determinate person or body of
persons to be exercised by them ; and when, by means of a
compact or agreement on the part of the people, that is
done, the community then becomes subject to such person
or persons and becomes itself dispossessed of the authority
given it by nature. But in every case political authority
vests in the first instance in the community or the people
as such, and by them it is conferred on such individuals or
groups of individuals as they may appoint to occupy the
position of sovereign ruler.
This is the well-known social-contract theory of Suarez
and Card. Bellarmine. It is a social-contract theory only
in a very modified sense of that term. It differs in many
essential points from the social-contract theory of Hobbcs
and Rousseau. For instance, Suarez and Bellarmine lend
no countenance to the doctrine that before the State arose
mankind was without a moral system or laws of any kind ;
that morals and, in particular, justice, are wholly dependent
on State authority. Also the authority of the State is not
• It is the Author of nature that confers this power on men —
• hominibus in civitatcm scu pcrfcctam communitalcm politicam
congregatis, non quidem ex peculiari ct quasi positiva inslitutione
vcl donalionc omnino distincta a productione talis naturae, sed per
naturalem consecutioncin ex vi primac crcationis ejus ; idcoquc ex
vl talis donationis non est haec potcstas in una persona neque in
peculiar! congrcgationc multaruui, scd in toto pcrfecto populo seu
corporc commuDitatis."
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 501
regarded by Suarez as resting on social-contract only, but
on nature, and the Author of nature, since authority is a
natural attribute of th? State. In one point only is this
doctrine of Suarez found to fall within the category of the
social-contract theories, viz. in the contention that the
people are the ultimate human repository of poHtical power,
and that political authority could come to be vested in
kings and princes and other rulers in one way only, viz. as
a result of free compact on the part of the people.
Criiicisni.
Our criticism of this theory can only be of the briefest
kind.
{a) In the first place : the theory of Suarez rests on a
purely groundless supposition. Political authority, he tells
us, is a natural attribute of society, i.e. of society taken as
a whole, of the corpus communitatis, and, therefore, it must
belong in the first instance to the people as a whole. Now
in one sense only is it right to say that political authority
is an attribute of society taken as a whole, viz. that political
authority lies somewhere in society, just as domestic authority
lies somewhere in the family. But domestic authority
though present in the family, is a natural attribute, not of
the family as such, but of the parents' position in the family,
and, so, domestic authority vests in the parent alone. So
also political authority is properly an attribute, not of
society as such, but of the position of ruler within the social
body, and, therefore, political authority vests in the ruler
only. Whatever person or body occupies this position of
ruler, in that person or body is vested, and exclusively vested,
the fullness of political authority. Should the people be
governed by themselves directly, as in the case of a direct
democracy, political authority vests in the people as ruler ;
should they be governed by king or council, in such king or
council is centred the fullness of political power. But in
whatever hands this power is placed it rests there by right
lOf nature and on the autliority of the Author of nature,
[because it is a natural attribute of the position of ruler.
The question is sometimes asked : in whose hands did
)olitical authority rest before it was conferred on prince or
uouncil ? What is conferred upon another must, it is asserted,
Jxist before it is conferred, and, it is added, if political
luthority existed before it was conferred upon the earliest
[governments there was no other body in which it could
reside except the people. The people were, therefore, the
502 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
first repository of political power and by them it was con-
ferred upon the earliest rulers.
Our criticism of this argument is that it is based on a
wholly mistaken view of the nature of political authority.
Political authority is not of the nature of money or furniture
or food that must first exist before it is received by its owner.
Pohtical authority, as we said, is of the nature of an aUrihute
attaching to the position of the ruler, and, therefore, it is
not necessary to suppose that the occupant of that position
receives his authority from some other person ; it springs
naturally from that position just as the attributes of a body
spring from the inner nature of the body and are not conferred
on it by anything external to itself. And, in this, political
authority follows the same law and principle as the authority
of a father over his child or of a master over his servant.
The authority of a father over his child is not conferred upon
him by some other person. Neither did it exist in another be-
fore he received it in the first instance. A father's authority
can only exist in himself, and it springs, not from some
external source, but from his position as father, of which it
is a natural and inseparable attribute. So also the authority
of governments is not to be regarded as, in the first instance,
resting in somebody, and then as conferred by them upon
the government. It is an attribvite of the position of ruler
and springs naturally from that position. In one sense
only should we speak of the authority of the ruler as residing
necessarily in some other person before the ruler receives it.
Being a natural attribute of the position of ruler all political
authority must be regarded as residing ultimately in the
Author of nature and as conferred by Him in every case
upon all those who have a legitimate right to its possession
and exercise.
{b) The people in a particular case, as we have seen,
might act as their own immediate rulers, in which case the
State is spoken of as a direct democracy. And being once
possessed of the fullness of pohtical authority, the people
could, by means of a compact with one another, abdicate
this authority and agree to be ruled by some deterPiinate
person or body who would henceforth be sovereign over
all. Thus it is plain that the social-compact is one method
by which political authority comes to vest in particular
persons and bodies ; but even when governments arc set
up in this fashion their authority is still derived from the
position of ruler, a ])ositi()n in wiiich tliey have been set by
the whole body politic, and to wliich (position) the ruling
authority essentially and inseparably belongs.
I
THE STATE— ITS NATURE 503
But there are other ways in which a ruler may legitimately
come to occupy the position of sovereign, other iiiles of
political authority, besides agreement on the part of, and
appointment "by, the people. Popular appointment or
election is not the only title of authority. What these
various titles are, and what the principle by which these
titles are determined and enumerated will be considered in
a later chapter.* But we may be allowed to refer again to
one title which has already been discussed, and the further
consideration of which will show how much at variance with
historical fact is the theory of the social-compact developed
by Suarez. We saw that the State in its earhest beginnings
was a development out of the family, that the first kings were
patriarchs or fathers of tribal famihes, the first councils the
elders of the tribes. The family village-community, as we
saw, glided imperceptibly into the position of a State ; the
head of the village-community became imperceptibly, as
the community expanded and took on wider and wider
functions, the head of the State. Henceforth his authority
was more than domestic ; it became political as well. And
in this way and not through compact, political authority
came first to be vested in the supreme ruler in the case of
most States.
Such is the testimony of history and of all recent socio-
logical enquiry into the origin of political rule amongst
primitive peoples. Here is no trace of anything in the
nature of social-compact. The first political rulers derived
their authority at a time when such a compact would have
been almost unthinkable, a period when any attempt to
superimpose upon the family or tribal organisation based
upon the tie of blood another organisation based upon a
wholly different principle, viz. popular election to power,
would have been exceedingly diihcult, if not wholly impossible.
And yet in those days the rulers of States wielded the sceptre
on titles as legitimate and with an authority quite as effective
and convincing as any ruler of the present day. It is clear
then that pohtical authority may arise according to other
methods than that of social compact, and that direct ap-
pointment by the corpus communitatis is neither the oldest
nor the only title of political rule.
* p. 519.
CHAPTER XVI
THE STATE— ITS PARTS
Of natural organisms we distinguish four elements — -
two extrinsic, two intrinsic. The extrinsic elements are
the efficient cause and the end of the organism. The
intrinsic elements, also spoken of as " parts," are its
matter and form. In the State it is convenient to
distinguish the same four elements. Two of these we
have already examined, its cause or source, and its end.
We must now treat of the two remaining elements, its
intrinsic elements or its parts, viz. its matter and its
form — i.e. the material elements that compose it, and
the formal principle by which these material elements
are made to constitute, not any kind of society, but the
particular societ}^ which we speak of as the State.
The material elements are two-fold — first, the people,
organised into families and communities larger than
families ; and, secondly, the territory which they occupy.
The form, or formal principle by which the people are
welded into a State, is manifestl}^ the ruler or governing
authority, for it is by being subordinated to one supreme
governing authority that the people come to constitute
one political society or a State. We shall in the present
chapter consider these three constitutive elements in
their relation to the State, viz. the people, the land, the
ruler or governing authority.
The People
The immediate component parts of any natural living
organism are not the ultimate atoms of which it is com-
posed but the cells consisting of many atoms. Tlie
504
THE STATE-ITS PARTS 505
reason is because the cells are themselves small natural
organisms with activities, laws, and properties all their
own. Atoms are formed by nature into cells, cells into
the larger organisms. So, also, the State is composed
immediately not of individuals but of families ; for the
family is itself a natural unit intermediate between the
individual and the State, and provided with laws and
functions of its own. It is even more distinctive and
independent than the cell within the body ; for, unlike
the cell, the family both preceded the whole of which it
is a part and could still survive, and in some measure
attain its end, even if the State should cease to exist.
Individual men and women, therefore, are the immediate
elements composing the natural unit of the family ;
families are the immediate component elements of the
State.
But, just as the human body, though composed of
cells, is yet specifically a different organism from that
of the cell, so also the State is not to be regarded as a
colossal family, but as a distinct organism in every way.
It is important that the former view of the relation of
the State to the family, a view which was advocated b}''
Socrates in the early, and by Sir Robert Filmer * in
the modern period, should be dispelled. If the State is
only a colossal family, if it is not distinct in quality
from the family, then only one form of State is possible,
viz. the patriarchal State ; and the limitations which
such a form of State must necessarily impose upon the
communit}^ and the hindrances it would oppose to
development, sufftce of themselves to disprove any theory
identifying the two institutions. Though the State is
composed of families, though it is a development out
of the family, it is, nevertheless, distinct from the family
in all those elements through which distinctions in
natural institutions arise. They differ in ground, in
end, in form, and in the links which bind the members
together. The family is grounded on necessities con-
^^■^ * Patriarcha
H
5o6 ■ THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
nected with the rearing of the child, and its end is to
provide for the daily wants of parents and children.
The State is grounded on the necessity of the State for
social progress and the common welfare ; and its end is
to provide for the race the things that are necessary for
the more developed life in so far as they cannot be pro-
vided b}^ the family. The form of the family is essentially
monarchical ; in no case could the children dictate to
their parents, or take the place of their parents ; the
State, on the other hand, may take any form, and in a
democratic State the same citizen is both ruler and
subject, makes laws through his representatives or, in a
direct democracy, by his own vote, and is at the same
time bound b\^ and subject to these laws. The members
composing the family are bound together primarily by
love and reverence through identity of blood ; the
members composing the State are bound primarily rather
by laws of justice, and, though originally a development
out of the family, it can originate in other ways also,
so that identity of blood, as a binding link between the
members even in a remote degree, is not a necessity
of its existence. The State, therefore, is a distinct
natural organism from the familj'.
The juridical relations between the two we have
already determined when treating of the end of the
State. The family is a part of the State, and as the part
is subject to the whole so the family is subject to the
State and should have a care for its welfare and the
welfare of the whole community. For two reasons,
however, the family is not to be regarded as completely
Hubordinatc. First, not only families but individuals
also, though political or social by nature, are not " wholly
political," to use Aristotle's expression, for having
faculties which extend beyond the State, the end of the
individual man lies outside the State. He is not, there-
fore, to be regarded as a mere means to the good of the
whole and is consequently not in everything subordinate.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 507
The State, e.g. could not put an innocent man out of
life simply because by living he might endanger the
health of the community. Secondly, the family is a
natural unit just like the State, it preceded the State,
and could survive apart from the State. It has its own
natural end and functions distinct from those of the
State. In the attainment of its end, therefore, which
principally lies in the rearing of the children, the family
is independent of the State ; only in the rarest circum-
stances, such as utter failure on the part of parents to
provide for their children, would it be in the competence
of the State either to take the rearing of the child into
its own hands, or even to interfere with the parents'
rights. The State must only help the parents, it cannot
supersede them.
OF OTHER NATURAL COMMUNITIES WITHIN THE STATE,
OR OF NATIONALITIES
The State did not develop immediately out of the
family. It proceeded from the family through the
village-community. As the family grew, it developed
into something more than a mere/ family — into a com-
munity. That community consisted of persons of differ-
ent generations related to each other by blood. For
healthful continuance, however, intermarriage was neces-
sary with members of other groups, and these members
would naturally leave their own groups to live with that
to which they had become allied.* The whole group
would be characterised by community of blood, and as
a rule by a common name. As growth continued,
however, and particularly as intermarriage increased,
l^r perhaps as fusion occurred with other groups, blood-
relationships would gradually become so distant as to
)e almost negligible, so that that which in the beginning
* See p. 451. In some cases the woman passed to the community
Jo which her husband belonged. In other cases it was the husband
I'ho left bis community.
5o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
constituted the vital bond of connection would at length
be superseded in importance by other characteristics
of the expanding community. Intermarriage would
solidify the different tribal units into a single homo-
geneous group ; certain marked physiological and psycho-
logical characteristics would appear ; identit}^ of speech^
of religion, of economic needs, would tend to produce a
common life and spirit with identity of hopes, of interests,.
of professions, of antipathies ; their common history
would beget a common tradition, and also common
sympathies arising out of the same triumphs and suffer-
ings in the past. These distinguishing characteristics;
would vary in relation to one another in different cases.
In some, one characteristic would be more prominent ;.
in others, another. Also the degree of their effective-
ness would var}^ In some cases the effect would be
to set up merely a " sense of association," with, however,^
no tendency to complete self-dependence. Such a com-
munity we speak of as a people. But where the com-
munity is of such dimensions, and the degree of cohesive-
ness so great as to create a permanent tendency to com-
plete self-dependence (a tendency usually symbolised in
some way, e.g. by a flag) from all other communities^
the community is then spoken of as a nationality. In
a single State there may be many nationalities. These
tendencies of nationalities might be not only opposed
but kept in subjection by the State ; but as long aa
these tendencies exist, and are capable of becoming
vitalised again when conditions become favourable, as
long as they are of such a strength that if the legal und
political bonds binding the smaller community to the
larger State were broken for any reason, the community
affected by them would tend necessarily and immediately
to crystallise into a single political community distinct
from all the rest, then such a community, even before
independence is actually attained, and even though it
should never be attained, fulfils all the conditions re-
quired by our definition of nationality. But these
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 509
conditions must not be mistaken. A nationality is not
defined by the tendency which it exhibits towards
political independence. It is defined by the causes
which produce and maintain this tendency, i.e. all the
elements that go to make of the group a single unity.
But the tendency to complete political independence
which these elements create is their first and most dis-
tinctive effect, and, therefore, it serves along with the
other defining conditions as a test by which to distinguish
a nationality in its true sense from those numerous
other political and economic groupings in which every
State abounds.
Relation of nationality to State, and the rights of the
former.
The State and the family differ in their end. The
end of the family is to rear children and provide for
their daily wants — the end of the State is to provide
for the higher or more developed requirements of the
whole community. Under no conditions can these two
natural institutions be superseded either by different
institutions or by each other. They are both absolute
necessities of the human race. But the village-com-
munity into which the family develops, and the
nationality, which normally is a later resultant of a
particular grouping of such communities, are nothing
more than halting-places on the way to the State, a
mid-point in the expansion of the famih', providing
partially the things which it is the function of the State
to supply fully when it appears. The end of the
nationality, therefore, is not different from the end of
the State, and its main function ceases when the State
comes into being. Nationalities are not permanently
necessary in the economy of nature as the family and
the State are.
Two consequences follow. First, even though the
Irrationality stands mid-way between the family and the
510 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
State, the State is immediately composed not of
nationalities but of families — the family being a
permanent and necessary natural unit, the other being-
transient. Secondly, unlike the family, nationalities
are in everything subordinate to the State. If they
become a menace to the State, the State is fully justified
in attempting to suppress all manifestation of their
national life and even of using violence against them.
But short of this a nationality has natural rights
which the State must not ignore, and the question how
far these rights extend is of great importance under
modern political conditions. They have natural rights
because they are a natural communit3^ It is true that
their natural function ceases when the State appears.
But even though their function ceases they do not them-
selves cease to exist, and they can never be dissociated
from their connection with the past and particularly
their connection with the natural family. They con-
tinue always, therefore, to hold a natural place in the
community, and that place gives rise to certain natural
claims or rights which the State should not leave wholly
unacknowledged .
What now are those rights which the State is,- in
justice, bound to accord to nationalities ? {a) First,
there is the right to the expression of their national
life, a right to the retention of their language, rites,,
customs, dress, and everything in which the inner life
of a people is wont to express itself, (b) Secondly,,
since, as we have seen, it is the distinctive characteristic
of a nationality that it should tend to a distinct political
as well as a distinct social life, i.e. that it should aim at
autonomy or self-government, the State is bound to
accord this right to nationalities unless there are special
valid reasons for withholding autonomy. A few of
these reasons for withholding autonomy may here be
mentioned. Laws being territorial, it is impossible to
grant autonomy where a nationality does not occupy a
distinct territory. The Jews in England, for instance.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 511
could lay no claim to autonomy on account of their
nationality. Again, even where a nationality occupies
a distinct territory, the State can withhold autonomy
where the granting of it would result in a great multi-
plication of legal systems, and, instead of a single
differentiated State, a fragmentary and multiple one.
Autonomy, for instance, could not be granted to the
innumerable nationalities of Hungary. Again, a par-
ticular nationality might be incapable of bearing the
responsibility of self-government. A State, however,
should be on its guard against its own innate prejudice
in this respect. Most governments show a decided but
most unreasoning inclination to suspect both the capacity
and the intentions of a vigorous nationality. A general
standard for deciding when a nationality is ripe for self-
government it is not easy to find, but one most reliable
test is given by Bluntschli,* viz. a great and long-con-
tinued struggle for libert}', and, we may add, a struggle
conducted by purely constitutional means. It is im-
possible that such a struggle should not be proof of the
possession of that degree of political life and enduring
political cohesiveness which is required for autonomy.
Lastly, a case may be made for withholding, if not
autonomy, at least the fullness of autonomy where a
people is so situated that the fullness of political autonomy
would be certain to lead to complete secession, f These
are all instances of where the granting of autonomy or
complete autonomy is either impossible or at least gives
rise to serious and perplexing questions. But, granted
a likelihood of success, all political justice would seem to
require that a desire long cherished and a claim
persistently and passionately expressed for autonomous
^existence should not be enduringly denied. And not
)nly political justice but political wisdom also recom-
* " Theory of the State."
t " If Australia or Canada," said Mr. Robertson, Under Secretary
)f Board of Trade, February 2nd, 1912, at London, " chose to separate
'rom the British Crown no British statesman would dream of seeking
retain those sections of the empire by force."
512 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
mends the concession. Nationalities cannot long con-
tinue to be over-ridden by force, and complete disregard
of them is bound to react in time, even upon a powerful
State, to its serious disadvantage. The State is in need
of other bonds than those of law and force. If its
cohesiveness is to be enduring, if it is to hold firm against
the " shocks and jars " of war, and even the various
crises that are possible in peace, it should rest upon
something deeper than force and law or even than
utility ; it should rest upon the firm and immovable
basis of popular contentment and good will. " No wise
statesman," said Mr. Asquith, speaking in connection
with the Welsh Church Bill on the elements that make
up a nationality, " could ignore these things ; they
swelled together, they were the tributaries which came
together and by their confluence formed that strange,
mixed, and almost unanalysable product which was
called national opinion and national sentiment."
(c) But the question arises, do the claims of nationalit}'
include also a right of complete secession from the State ?
Of course, any body of men have a right, provided they
are not too numerous, to leave the State in which they
have lived and seek a habitat elsewhere, and this right
is in every case accorded b}^ States. But secession in
its technical sense means dissociation from the State
whilst still occupying a portion of the territor}^ of the
State, and this right, we claim, mere nationality as such
does not carry with it. For, first, the State, like the body,
has a right to integrity, and loss of territory means loss
of integrity in a very important relation. Secondly, a
State undertakes certain economic and other engage-
ments with foreign States on the basis of the existence
of a certain population and certain resources and, there-
fore, she may lawfully resist any attempt at disintegra-
tion in these respects. Thirdly, the State which suffers
dismemberment through secession is still responsible for
the whole national debt, except such portion of it as is
apecially undertaken in reference to the seceding part.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 513
For these reasons it is plain that a State is under no
obligation to concede to nationalities a right of
secession.*
The Territory of the State
Is territory an absolute essential for the State? The
question is clearly answered by Aristotle in his Politics, f
Examining the requirements of the perfect State, he
enumerates, first, the things that are necessary for the
being of the State, then, the things necessary for its
perfection. For its being you require a population,
territory, and the like-X For the more perfect being of
the State a population of a "certain size and a territory
of particular dimensions and quality are required. All
through his work Aristotle treats the territory as on a
level of importance second only to, if not equal to, the
population. And the reason is obvious. The definition of
the State is found in its characteristic of self-sufficiency.
* From this it will be seen how false is that principle of which so
much was heard in the nineteenth century in connection with certain
great political movements occurring in that century, viz. the so-called
" principle of nationality," or the principle of " one State, one
nationality," the principle that States and nationalities should be
coterminous. It might, of course, be a good thing if every State
had that degree of cohesiveness which nationality always carries
with it, a cohesiveness which is at its maximum when the State is
composed of a single nationality ; but there is no ground of reason
by which it could be shown that nationalities and States ought to be
coterminous. Where there is no common government any group of
persons, even though belonging to different nationalities, have a right
to choose a common ruler and organise themselves as a State. Besides,
suppose that all the members of a particular nationality, say all the
Celts of the world, were to come together and form themselves into
a single State, surely it is impossible to think that no member of that
community could ever again be free to leave that State and seek for
citizenship elsewhere. Yet if only one person did so the principle of
nationality would have been definitely and effectively broken through.
t VII. 4.
X Under this very general category are, no doubt, included the
various things enumerated in VII. 8, 7, viz. food, the arts, revenue,
s, courts of justice, etc., all of which things Aristotle tells us are
:hings which every State may be said to need." For a State is
t a mere aggregate of persons, but a union of them sufficing for the
purposes of life, and if any of these things be wanting it is simply
impossible that the community can be self-sufficing.
t
VOL. 11—33
514 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Now, without territory, a community cannot be self-
sufficient. On the one hand it cannot be economically
self-sufficient, for without territory the population cannot
produce the necessaries of life nor the means of securing
these necessaries from outside. A nomadic population
has no permanent resources on which to rely except its
ability to fight and plunder. On the other hand, it
cannot be juridically self-sufficient, i.e. a nomadic com-
munity cannot enter into right juridical relations with
other States ; for, first, it is too indefinite (it is the
territory of a State that chiefly defines and identifies it),
and, secondly, the mere fact that it is nomadic makes
it a permanent aggressor against all other and, in par-
ticular, all fixed communities. A nomadic tribe, there-
fore, cannot take its place in the comity of nations on a
level with the rest. For these reasons a fixed territory
is to be regarded as a prime necessity for self-sufficiency,
and, therefore, an essential part of the State.
The State and its territory.
The control of the State over its territory is a control of
jurisdiction only, not of ownership. Ownership is not
necessary to the work of government, which is, to direct
the community to the attainment of the common good.
But on the other hand, without jurisdiction the work of the
State could not be accomplished.
Before the end of the feudal period, the idea was prevalent
that lordship brought with it a right of ownership over the
land, and not a right of jurisdiction merely. " Kings,"
wrote Louis XIV,* " were born to possess all and to com-
mand all. Kings have unlimited power, and have the right
of disposal over all goods, wlielher possessed by Church or
laity, but for the good of tlic State. . . . Everything within,
the State of whatever kind belongs to us. . . . This is the
first of all laws, but it is the least known outside the circle
of supreme rulers." After the French Revolution the title
" King of France " was disallowed and " King of the French "
substituted in order to emphasise the fact that kingship
brought with it, not proprietary rights but a right of juris-
* Testament to his son.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS
O^D
diction only. Louis XVIII and Charles X did, indeed, later
adopt the older title once more, <iut at this later period
there was no danger of its meaning being misunderstood.*
The Authority of the State
By the authority of the State is meant the right of
the State, or of that person or body of persons who
rule and represent the State, to take the means necessary
for the attainment of its end. The authority of the
State and of the ruler representing it is limited by its
end. Things that are in no sense necessary for the
common good the State has no right to impose as a
duty on its subjects. But rights extend to all those
things that are necessary for, or promote the public
good in any way. Thus it has a right to make laws, to
administer them, to punish those who violate them, to
provide proper conditions, moral and physical, for human
life and development, to impose taxes for its own support
so that it may be in a position to undertake all necessary
and useful work. Excluding the things that appertain
to the individual interest alone, or that are specially
entrusted by nature to the family, i.e. the rearing
of children, the vState has the right through its ruler
to enter upon any course that is necessary for, or
promotes the public good. The authority of the ruler
extends to everything that is not bad or useless in
respect of the end of the State.
The Grounds and Titles of Political Authority
We have to distinguish between the grounds of political
authority and the titles of authority.! The grounds of
authority are those things on which authority is based
as a system or institution — the things to which one
makes appeal in proof of the existence of political
Iuthority generally, i.e. to show that there is such a thing
* See Bluntschli, " Theory of the State," V.
t As was done in connection with private ownership, p. 115.
5i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
as political aiithorit}'. The titles of political authority
are those things on which authority is based in particular
instances or to which one makes appeal in order to prove
that political authority vests rightfully, in a particular
case, in one person or body, rather than in another person
or body.
Political authority is grounded immediately on nature,
and remotely and ultimately on the Author of nature —
the Supreme Being, It is grounded immediately on
nature because it is a natural necessity. The State is
grounded on nature, since it is naturally necessary for
human welfare and development. But political authority
is a natural requirement of the State. And, therefore,
political authority is an absolute necessity of nature and
is grounded on human nature. The first of these pro-
positions, viz. that the State is a necessity of nature, we
demonstrated in our discussion on the origin of the
State. The second, that political authority is a natural
requirement of the State, though obvious, may be estab-
lished as follows : The State is a society, and every
society requires to be directed to its end by means of
some ruling authority. For there are many different
means by which the end of any society may be attained,
and a ruling authority is required to fix upon one definite
set of means and to insist on these being followed.
Without such authority the citizens who compose the
State would be a rabble not a society. Without authority
there could be no conspiratio virium, no common en-
deavour, no order, no progress. On the contrary, without
authority the community would be constituted of oppos-
ing units, actuated by opposing forces, and the result
would be the speedy disintegration of society. It is
evident, therefore, that authority of some kind is necessary,
first for the making of laws, and second for executing and
enforcing the same ; and it is necessary in a comnumity
composed of good men as well as in one consisting of
good and evil. For even good men if they arc to promote
the end of the State require to have some delinite means
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 517
determined for them, otherwise all would be acting
differently and antagonistically, and peace and progress
would be impossible.
Political authority is, therefore, naturally necessary
for the State, and since the State is itself a necessity of
nature, political authority is also a necessity of nature.
But though grounded immediately upon nature, political
authority is not grounded on nature alone. It is to be
regarded as grounded ultimately upon the Author of
Nature, upon God, the Supreme Ruler of the Universe.*
We must now treat of the titles of political authority.
In writing on private ownership we showed that in
order to establish ownership in any case it was not
enough to show that private ownership exists as an
institution, in other words it is not enough to appeal
to the grounds of private ownership ; a man should
also be able to make good his own title, i.e. to show that
* The above reasoning must be very carefully distinguished from
two theories to which it bears a certain resemblance, but from which
it is in reality entirely different. The first is the theocratic theory
that the State is founded immediately by God and governed by Him,
either immediately or through His prophets or representatives. In
our exposition the State is grounded immediately on nature, and
political authority is represented as bearing the same relation to the
Divine authority that paternal authority does — both derive ultimately
from the Author of nature, but immediately they rest on require-
ments of nature itself.
The other theory from which our own has to be carefully dis-
tinguished is that of Suarez. Suarez, like ourselves, insists that
political authority does not derive immediately from God (nuUus
principatus pohticus est immediate a Deo), but the theory that under-
lies this contention is quite different from and opposed to ours. In
Suarez's view political authority is not immediately derived from
God, because it is immediately derived from the people. It is con-
ferred in the first instance immediately upon the people, and by them
it is vested in a certain ruler. We, on the other hand, defend no such
theory. In some cases, as we shall presently see, when treating of
the titles to political authority, the people do as a community proceed
to appoint a ruler, and to set up a certain form of government. Even,
however, in that case they do not necessarily confer an authority
already possessed by themselves. But whether they do or not, it is
certain that a State may come into existence without any such
common act or arrangement on the part of the people, and, therefore,
Ie theory that all political authority is conferred immediately by
e people is opposed to the theory defended in our text.
I
5i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
he and not another person is rightful owner in the case.
So, also, it is not enough to prove that political authority
exists as an institution— a ruler should also be able to
show that authority rests in him personally and not in
another; he should be able to point to some act or
condition of things which will be accepted by men as
entitling him personally, as against all other claimants,
to the position of ruler. What, now are these titles to
political authority ?
It is necessary here to distinguish between natural
and artificial titles. In every fully developed State the
constitution provides a definite method for securing the
continuance of government, and the use of that method
will be the title generally appealed to in establishing
one's claim to govern, should that claim be at any time
called in question. In England, for instance, descent
is the title on which kingship depends, and election the
title relied on by the members of the House of Commons.
In America election by certain elected bodies bestows
the title of presidentship. But these titles are purely
artificial. They are, indeed, none the less effective for
that. But still they are artificial. For they are all
characterised by two things, first, they are titles selected
or ratified by a State already in being, i.e. the State in
being possesses a constitution and these are the titles
laid down in the constitution ; secondly, they are quite
arbitrary. Any State might at any time alter the
existing title and set up another in its place, there being
no constitution that cannot be changed.
By natural title? we mean those titles by which States
are set up in the first instance, by which a new State is
organised, by which a ruling authority is for the first
time placed over a people. Any claim that can be
lcgitimat(?ly put forward in such a case will be natural
in the sense that it does not depend on mere human
convention like the titles set out in the various con-
stitutions. It is with natural titles that we have to
do in the present chapter.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 519
Now, before we proceed to enumerate these natural
titles, it is necessary to explain the principle by which
natural titles are determined. It will be observed that
though nature requires the existence of the State, and,
therefore, of a ruling authority over the State, she does not
herself determine the individual or body of individuals,
in whom the necessary political authority is to reside.
But she will be satisfied with any act or method, as title,
which, while it offends against no existing right, and is
in harmony with the essential idea and attributes of
the State, effectively sets a ruler over the people, and so
makes possible the beginnings of State organisation.
This is the principle by which the original titles of
authority are determined, those titles, namely, which
bring the State into being under a definite political
authority in the first instance. Once, however, the
State is constituted in being, it can then proceed to
fix upon some settled title of succession specially be-
fitting its own particular requirements.
At once certain acts and incidents suggest thehiselves
as specially fitted to be regarded as natural titles of
authorit3^ These titles we shall now briefly attempt
to enumerate.
POPULAR ELECTION
The most obvious, though probably not the oldest
title, in point of time, is that of popular election or
choice. As we said, nature requires that there should
[be a ruler ; and if the people are sufficiently united and
'^organised, even before the State is actually brought
into being, to fix, by an act of choice, on some individual
[or body of individuals to rule over them, there could be
[no clearer way of fulfilling nature's requirements than
I this, and certainly no more effective way.
[the fact of possession
But this is not the only title to authority. As we
isaid, nature requires that there should be a ruler ; but
520 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
she is satisfied with any method that effectively furnishes
one, provided it does not violate an existing natural right
or contravene the essential requirements of authority.
She will not be satisfied, for instance, with foisting
somebody, as ruler, on a community already provided
with a governing authority, for the nature of the State
does not admit of many rival supreme authorities — •
the supreme authority, as we shall see presently, is
necessarily one. But from this we are led to a second
genuine title of political authority, and one which is
perhaps the oldest in point of history, viz. the fact of
possession* the fact that some one is actually exercising
control of the community in some capacity other than
that of political rulership when the State first comes
into being. As we saw when treating of the origin of
the State, even before the self-sufficing State appeared,
society was already to some extent organised and pre-
sided over by the head of the tribe, or a group consisting
of the various heads of different tribes. Gradually and
imperceptibly this patriarchal | society, if we may so
describe it, developed into or became the State, so that
when eventually the condition of self-sufficiency was
reached, and the State as a result came into being, it
was already provided with a ruling head exercising over
the community the fullness of authority in regard, not
only to its domestic needs, but to all its needs. The
position of patriarch would not of itself confer political
authority on this head, for the patriarch as such is
head of the family only, and the State though a develop-
ment from it is essentially a different society from that
of the family ; but the fact that the family head was
in actual possession, governing the community in all
its relations when first the degree of organisation required
• De facto Rovcrnmcnt is accorded recognition in various degrees
in different countries. See Dicey, " Law of the Constitution," p. 355,
for an interesting comparison of England and France.
I We use tlie word in a wide sense — meaning the ruler or rulers
in the family community, including even matriarchal communities.
See note p. 46C.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 521
for a State was reached, was itself a sufficient title of
authority. It was, in fact, probably the only title that
could confer cohesiveness and enduring strength upon
society in the earliest periods of human history.
CONQUEST
Conquest is another natural title of political authorit}-.
Conquest puts the victorious government in a con-
dition of superiority over that which has suffered defeat,
and under certain circumstances this condition brings
with it a number of rights, including even the right to
bring the defeated nation under complete subjection,
i.e. to annex it and assume complete sovereign authority
over it. This may occur not only in the case of a just
but also of an unjust war, but the reasons are very
different in the two cases. In the following pages we
shall discuss the question how and in what circumstances
conquest confers this right on the victor, first, in the
case of a just : secondly, of an unjust war.
In a just war the victor has no right merely because
of his victory to bring his enemy into permanent sub-
jection, any more than a private individual has the
right to assume ownership over another simply because
he has defeated him in just combat. But just conquest
confers this right of annexation and government on
the victor in certain well-defined cases, of which the
following are the chief examples. A victor may bring
his enemy into permanent subjection as a method for
securing compensation, where no other kind of satis-
faction or redress is possible. A just war always pre-
supposes injur}', and, therefore, the victor has always
right to compensation of some kind. Again, annexa-
ion may be necessary in self-defence, since a beaten
)ut still independent enemy may often harbour designs
^f revenge against the victor, and a victorious ruler
^as every right to take corresponding precautions for
le future safety of his subjects. It is, however, a very
522 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
grave thing to deprive even a beaten enemy of inde-
pendence, and, therefore, a victor should not use this
right unless the enemy has manifested his dangerous
intentions in some not uncertain way. Finally, an-
nexation of at least a portion of the enemy's territory
may be necessary for military reasons — for instance, on
occasion of the rectification of frontiers, a right which
is oftefn exercised in war in order to strengthen the
victorious party against future aggression on the part
of the defeated enemy.
Next, victory under certain conditions may confer on
the victor a right of legitimate rule even in the case of
an unjust war. That unjust victory does not of itself,
and always, confer rights upon the victor is an obvious
truth which it will not be necessarj^ to prove to the
reader. An unlawful act cannot of itself give rise to
lawful right. But an unlawful act may sometimes give
rise to certain facts and conditions which are not them-
selves unlawful, and out of these facts and conditions
it is possible that rights ma}' arise. Thus, to take a
case outside of our present discussion — to oppose a law
is obviously unlawful and a sin. But widespread viola-
tion of a law may often result in setting up a custom
opposed to the law, and such custom may then give
rise to a new law opposed to the old.
What we purpose to show in the course of the follow-
ing pages is that, after an unjust war, such a set of
conditions may sometimes intervene as suffices to
legitimise a rule begun in violence and injustice — in
other words that a de facto but illegitimate government
may in course of time become legitimate, and, even
tends naturally to become legitimate. The legitima-
tion of a dc /ado government will be found to rest on
two recognised natural titles of political authority,
viz. {a) prescription and (b) the consent of the people ;
and in both connections it will be shown to be a strict
requirement of natural law.
We shall treat of legitimation in connection with
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 523
each of these titles separately. And first of prescrip-
tion.
(a) The importance of prescription * as a source of
rights has already been considered in connection with
ownership or property. But if prescription may operate
as a title of ownership in the domain of property, it is
even more potent and effective in the domain of politics
as a title of civil authority. Prescription, as we saw,
is not a natural title f in regard to ownership or pro-
perty, i.e. the natural law does not of itself confer
ownership upon every person who has been in posses-
sion of an object for a certain time. The reason is
that the conferring of ownership in this case is not
necessary for human welfare. There is no natural law
or need requiring that every object in the world should
be owned by some one. and, as a matter of fact, in-
numerable things of value are not the property of any
one. However, though natural law does not itself
enforce prescription in regard to property, it does, in
the interest of the communit}', urge upon the civil
authorities the necessit}^ of instituting some such law,
since, otherwise, there would be much confusion and
doubt in regard to property, no man being certain
whether his own rights and those of others might not
be violated through some defect of title in the past.
But prescription, though not in strictness a natural
title in the case of property, is natural as a title of
political authority, and, granted the necessary conditions,
confers upon the de facto government the right of
legitimate rule. And the reason for this difference is
obvious. As we said, it is not absolutely necessary
that every object of value in the world should have
an owner, but it is necessary that every societ}^ should
have a ruler {a legitimate ruler, whom the people are hound
* The reader may not like the use of the word " prescription "
here. We use it, however, in a broad sense as equivalent to the
effect of lapse of time in conferring rights.
f Except perhaps in the case of " immemorial " prescription.
524 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
to obey), otherwise there can be neither security, nor
happiness, nor tranquilHty in the reahii.
Most unhappy is the condition of any people who,
during a long period, are made subject to the rule of
two governments, one, the legitimate government which
yet is unable to perform any act of government, another
the de facto government which is ph}'sically capable of
governing the people, but 3'et is without the necessary
authorit}^ to do so. Such a people are without a ruler
in any real sense, i.e. a person or body who possesses
the right to rule, and is in a position to put this right
into operation. Their condition is in a sense even more
unfortunate than that of a people who have no govern-
ment of any kind. Like the latter they have no bind-
ing laws to guide them, i.e. no laws which the legitimate
government is in a position to execute. But in ad-
dition they are made to suffer innumerable positive
evils springing out of the hostility of the two claimants.
For instance, by lending support to the de facto govern-
ment the people offend against their consciences ; by
adhering to the legitimate government they incur the
anger of the usurper, and are penalised in innumerable
waj'S. Again, the people are torn by internal dissen-
sions, some fired by enthusiasm for the legitimate
sovereign, some urging adherence to the de facto ruler.
And out of these dissensions will arise feuds, party
quarrels, violence, bitterness, and disturbance of every
kind. Again, the natural wealth of a country, which,
without a ruler, might be saved for future use, and
would in large measure be presently used for the good
of the people, is wasted by the usurping government
in protecting itself, in extending its influence, and con-
solidating its power.
This is the position in which a people finds itself
after imjust conquest— a position fraught with evil for
the whole comnumity. What,, therefore, is to be done
in the circumstances ? The people cannot continue to
live in such a lamentable condition, an end must be
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 525
put to it some time, and an end can only be put to it
by ending the conflict between the two governments.
Now, what it is essential to remember in this connec-
tion is that, in comparison with the needs of the people,
the claims of the competing governments are of secondary
importance only. The essential end of government is
the welfare of the people, and government is only a
means for attaining this end. There is no claim of
government that cannot be defeated by natural law
once it is found to oppose the public welfare. When,
therefore, sufficient time and opportunity have been
given to the dispossessed government to retrieve its
position, when after a long period it has shown itself
utterly unable to do so, when, in the judgment of com-
petent men, it has been completely subdued so that it
can no longer be regarded as a serious competitor with
the usurping government for the office of ruler, it be-
comes the clear duty of the pretender to renounce his
claims, and if he should still continue to urge his claims,
he acts the part, not of a government seeking the good
of the people, but of a tyrant seeking his own good at
the expense of the people. Being, therefore, under an
obligation to cease from pressing its claims upon the
people, the old or superseded government must be re-
garded as gradually losing its right of legitimate rule,
and, therefore, this right tends naturally to vest finally
in the hands of the acting or de facto government.* It
may be objected that in this conflict of claims the
usurper was also under an obligation to desist from
occupation and to give place to the legitimate ruler,
and that, therefore, the claim of the usurper is not
superior to that of the older government. And this
is true up to a certain period. But in the long run it
I . see Tapa«m, •• Sag^io Te„.e«c„ di DKtto Natura.e," ..s. 3,
cap. 5, art. 2 : A. Castelein S.J., " Droit Natural," p. 792 : V. Cathrein
S.J., " Moralphilosophie," II. 665 : P. Schiffini S.J., " Disputationes
Philosophiae Moralis," II., 448 : T. Meyer S.J., " Die Grundsatze
der Sittlichkeit und des Rechts," 232 ; and, by the same author,
" Inst. Jur. Nat.," II., 501.
526 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
is the welfare of the people that must be allowed ta
determine all such issues and must decide all questions
of right between the opposing governments. And, in
this case, the right to rule, as determined by the welfare
of the people, rests clearly with the de facto government.
Better in the interest of the people a government which,
we suppose, is not oppressive, and which is in a position
to execute all the offices of government, than one, how-
ever old-established and however good its title, which is^
not in a position to perform any of the offices of govern-
ment. The latter is not a government in any true
sense.
This is what is meant when we say that with lapse
of time nature tends to legitimise the de facto govern-
ment, provided it is prepared to act as a government
should, i.e. to seek the welfare of the community. It
means that the supreme natural end of all government
is the welfare of the people, and, therefore, the right
of sovereign rule tends by natural law to forsake that
body which is wholly debarred from attaining this
end, and to vest in that body which can attain this
end and is actually fulfilling the offices of government.
It is important also to point out that the de facto
government may become legitimised, even though it
does not find favour with the people, and even in spite
of their opposition. For the needs of the people over-
ride every other consideration in relation to govern-
ment, even the passions and predilections of the people
themselves. The people, just like the ruler, are bound
to do nothing which is opposed to the public welfare,
and, therefore, since, in the case we have made, legiti-
mation is required for the public welfare, prescription
not only removes the right of the older government,
but also nullifies every claim on the part of the people
in favour of that person or body which is incapacitated
from providing for the public good. And this doctrine
holds good whatever the form of government which
has been dispossessed — wliether it is that of a monarchy.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 527
an aristocracy, or a republic. In all it is the duty of
the ruler to aim at promoting that which is the essential
end of all government — the welfare of the people, and,
therefore, no claim or right of the ruler can be allowed
to stand if it definitely opposes that end.
But this transference of authority from the old
government to the new on the ground of prescription,
is necessitated by other reasons also beside this funda-
mental need of which we have spoken, that, viz. of an
actual and effective government for the people's welfare.
When a usurper has been fulfilling the office of ruler
for a considerable period, innumerable prescriptive rights
will of necessity have been formed, based upon acts of
the de facto government, and these rights will act, con-
currently with the general need of government just
described, in conferring upon the de facto sovereign
the right of legitimate rule. In the domain of pro-
perty the effects of prescription are described in a very
vivid manner by J. S. Mill, and his description will
help us to form some idea of how prescriptive rights
may arise in the sphere not of property only but also
of government. " It may seem hard," he writes,*
" that a claim originally just should be defeated by
mere lapse of time ; but there is a time after which . . .
the balance of hardship turns the other way. With
the injustices of men as with the convulsions and dis-
asters of nature, the longer they remain unrepaired
the greater become the obstacles to repairing them
arising from the aftergrowths which would have to be
torn up or broken through." Now, these aftergrowths,
deeper and more extended in the case of government
^han in that of property, must, it will easily be seen,
present a very grave obstacle to the return of the pre-
mder to power after his rule has been superseded for a
rer}' long period, and they will facilitate in a corre-
jiponding manner the legitimation of the dc facto ruler.
* " Principles of Political Economy," Bk. II. ch. II. par. 2.
528 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Let us examine some of those aftergrowths placing
obstacles to a return of the old regime after a continued
period of usurpation. In course of time a de facto
government will {a) first of all, create in the country a
large and increasing party or following, whose interests
will centre in the continuance of the new government.
This following may be smaller than the opposed legitimist
party, but it will have its own value in that accumula-
tion of facts and events which between them make up
the title of prescription ; {b) government will set up
certain vested interests, as by appointment to govern-
mental offices, the founding of state-aided schools,
universities, hospitals, etc., all dependent on the govern-
ment's continued existence ; (c) it will make settlements
of property ; [d) enter into mercantile transactions of
various kinds on the credit of the government, e.g. b}^
borrowing money (since every country accumulates a
national debt), by lending money (as when the British
government lent money to the Irish farmers), by giving
out contracts to private firms for the erection of build-
ings, the construction of battleships, etc. The work
of government is obviously the most important political
function in an}' countr}'. What we often fail to re-
member is that it is also the biggest business in the
whole mercantile world ; [e) finally, a dc facto govern-
ment will effect alliances with foreign States often in-
volving large financial obligations. These alliances, too,
are effected not in the interest of the government alone,
but primarily in the interest of and on behalf of the
people.
These are only a few instances of the many prescrip-
tive rights that arise in connection with government,
but they will suffice to afford us some idea of the range
and importance of tbcse rights. We have said nothing
of the innumerable private contracts which the people
make on the faitli of the existing government, in tlie
sense that they are made in consideration of the pu'wer
of the government to enforce their observance. These
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 529
also, although only indirectly, set up a claim on t)ehalf
of the existing government. But the other instances
we have given are all instances of rights that are directly
due to the action of the government itself, and, there-
fore, they set up a direct claim to permanency on its
behalf. From the first hour that a ririer begins to
govern, his duties bring him into relation with every
person in the community. As a result, a system of
rights and claims begins at once to form, extending and
ramifying in every directi m, any disturbance of which
would bring confusion and inevitable loss to the com-
munity. And since these rights bind in natural law,
and since their fulfilment supposes the permanence of
the government that is responsible for creating them,
the natural law must tend, where the circumstances
allow, to give that government permanence, in other
words, to endow it with full political jurisdiction. As
long as the old government exists, the natural law is
obviously debarred from doing this, since there cannot
at one and the same time be two legitimate sovereignties
in the land. But as soon as the old government has
disappeared or is completely subdued, the natural law
must be regarded as proceeding forthwith to legitimise
the new government, and to regularise its position in
relation to the community.*
* The pretender may object as follows : I am willing to respect
all those rights which have been mentioned if I am returned to power.
How, therefore, can they be regarded as favouring the rule of the
usurper any more than they favour my rule ? But the question
which we have here to consider is not what the pretender is willing
to do, but what is the disposition of the natural law in regard to the
rights of the community ? Now, the natural law knows nothing
about the pretender's willingness to acknowledge these rights created
by the usurper, his willingness being quite accidental. The natural
law puts the responsibility for defending this body of rights on the
government that created them and on it alone ; and, therefore, it
is only of that government that it will take account in providing for
their fulfilment. It is to the rule of the usurper, therefore, that it
will give its support, not to that of the pretender.
Again, it may be objected that, just as the usurper creates rights
that he himself is supposed to fulfil, thus establishing a claim to
legitimation, so also the pretender must be supposed to have created
yghts and claims in the course of his rigime, and, therefore, the problem
VOL. II — 34
530 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
The important question now arises — after what period
does the right of lawful rule pass out of the hands of
the pretender and into those of the de facto ruler ? This
is an exceedingly difficult question to answer in any kind
of precise manner, since the necessities of the common
good are often ver}^ ill- defined, and every scheme for
attaining it is marred by some defects. But a few
general propositions may be laid dovvn which will help
us to come to a right conclusion in a great variety of
cases. In the first place, much depends on whether
the pretender has lost only a part of his dominions or
the whole of them, and, therefore, whether he still
exists as a sovereign ruler of some State, or has ceased
altogether to exist A dc facto government prescribes
much more quickly where the ruler is completely de-
posed, as in the defeat of the Neapolitan dictator in
i860, and the annexation of Hanover by Prussia in 1866,
than is possible against continuing rulers, part onl}'^ of
whose dominions are invaded and annexed, as in the
German annexation of Alsace and Lorraine. The reason
is that where the sceptre has fallen completely from the
hands of a ruler, his restoration is always a much more
difficult experiment than when restoration consists
simply in the extension of an already existent dominion.
Again, {generally speaking, legitimation is not effected
during the reign of the original usurper. His reign
begins by an injustice, and it is not for the general
good that a wrong-doer should become ruler through
mere lapse of time. This holds true also in the case
of property. The thief does not become owner through
lapse of time, though his successors may. We sa\
of how the existent rights are to be fulfilled cannot be said to favour
one gove nmcnt more than the other. But the difTeroncc is that,
in the circumstances, the pretender is not able to ^ivc eflect to any
responsibilities which he has incurred, whereas tlie usurper is able ;
and therefore the natural law, which considers primarily the require*
ments of the community and vol the claims of the respective f;ovcrnments,
must be regarded as at once legitimising the de facto government
and placing on it full rcsix)nsibility for the fulfdment of every right
created by government, even by the government of the pretender.
e
K
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 531
" generally speaking," for legitimation during the life
of an unjust invader is not to be regarded as wholly
impossible. It is possible in very extreme cases where
the good of the nation overwhelmingly requires such
legitimation. The rule of law that mala fides excludes
the possibility of prescription, though holding true of
government as well as of property, does not hold with
the same degree of urgency in both cases. As between
two claimants to property, the only issue involved is
that of the claimants' own rights. But when govern-
ments are in conflict about the sovereign power, the
chief interest involved is that of a third party — the
people, and when their needs overwhelmingly require
that the issue should be resolved one way or another,
even the mala fides of one of the parties should not be
allowed to stand in the way of any solution that meets
the necessities of the case. Normally speaking, how-
Wer, as we said, prescription cannot become efiective
in the first generation, nor indeed in the second, since,
normally speaking, the new government has not in that
period become necessar}' to the State. But the rights
of the pretender cannot go on for ever. The people
cannot live in doubt and confusion for ever. Their
welfare requires that if the pretender cannot retrieve
his position, the rule of the de facto government should
be legitimised at some time, so that the country may
begin once more to develop along normal lines. What
is that time ? If the position of the pretending govern-
ment is hopeless * or if the pretending government has
completely disappeared and all the old machinery of
government has definitel}'^ passed away, the rule of
the usurper may normally be regarded as legitimised
fter a couple of generations. Where, however, the
riginal ruler or his successors are still pressing their
laims, but there is no hope of success for them. i.e.
" When," says Cathrein (op. cit. p. 668), " the return of the
jretender may be looked on as morally impossible, then the de facto
government is legitimised."
532 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of immediate success or success within a reasonable
period, the conckision to which our principle (the
principle, viz. that the welfare of the people is primary)
clearly leads is as follows : the rule of the usurper is
to be regarded as fully legitimised whenever the new
government has so become part of the life of the nation,
and created such a following, and set up such a body
of rights there that to overthrow it would have all the
disturbing effects of a second revolution.* If ever
stable government is to be attained, legitimation should
be acknowledged \mder such conditions. When that
condition of things is likely to be realised it is not easy
to say. But considering the rapidity with which govern-
ment ordinarily makes its influence felt in the com-
munity, it is hardly to be supposed that the claims of
the pretender can lawfully be urged after four or five
generations of opposing rule.
{b) The consent of the people, as we have already
seen, is to be counted among the original natural titles
of political authority, i.e. it is a valid title when a com-
munity is forming for the first time into one political
body, and a new State is brought into being. We have
now to show that the consent of the people may also
operate as a valid title of political jurisdiction in case
of conflict between two opposing governments, one, the
legitimate government defeated in an unjust war, the
other, the de facto government but illegitimate.
There are writers who maintain that by means of
popular consent the rule of the usurper can be legitimised
any time after usurpation is effected, even though the
original ruler is still carrying on an effective campaign
against the usurper and has a chance of success. Now,
this view is based entirely on the theory that there
exists only one title of rightful government, viz. the
consent of the people, and since that theory has already
been rejected in these pages we must also reject the
• Sec Meyer, " Inst. Jur. Nat.," II. 501 ; Cathrcin, op, cit. II. 667.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 533
conclusion that has been built upon it. The consent of
the people is only one out of many titles of authority,
and it is excluded wherever, according to law, the
government is constituted in some other way than that
of popular election or consent.
The position of a usurper could at any time be
legitimised by the consent of the legitimate but dis-
possessed ruler ; and, therefore, if the people are them-
selves the legitimate sovereign, as in the case of a re-
public, they are the persons whose consent is required.
But if the people are not the sovereign ruler, as in the
case of a monarchy or an aristocracy, the people are
not the authority from whom consent is to be sought ;
and as long as the monarch or ruling aristocracy is in
existence, it is on their authority and by their consent
only that legitimation can be effected. During that
period, too, the people are bound to refrain from giving
their consent to the new regime or doing anything that
would directly help to consolidate the usurper's position ;
they should abstain from those acts that we shall
describe later as indicating popular consent, since, by
our hypothesis, all such acts are essentially acts of co-
operation in wrong-doing.*
The process, however, by which one ruler replaces
another in the case of conquest, is very gradual, and,
therefore, a time must come in the history of a defeated
monarchy or aristocracy when the community may be
regarded as without a legitimate ruler in any real sense,
the fallen monarch having failed utterly to retrieve or
to improve his position, and being, therefore, utterly
unable to govern, while the usurping government has
not yet established its clear right to allegiance and full
recognition by the people. When that period arrives
/e may regard the people, in default of anybody else,
a kind of residuary legatee of the dethroned monarch,
* The people, however, not only may, but ought to obey all such
^aws of the usurper as are not tyrannical or unjust, at least for the
sake of public tranquillity.
534 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
with a right to choose the ruler. And should they in
the exercise of this right give consent and acceptance
to the usurper,* his rule is to be regarded as legitimated
from that moment. If, however, their consent is given
only graduall}^ different bodies of the people or their
representatives giving their acceptance independently of
one another and at different times, the rule of the usurper
wiU only be gradually established, and legitimation will
be completed only when the consent of the people is
substantially complete. Of course, the usurper may
previously have gone very far to establish his claim to
legitimation on another ground altogether, indepen-
dently of popular consent, viz. that of prescription. In
that case the consent of the people will at least serve
as an additional title to legitimation, and will also
inevitably hasten its occurrence by shortening the
maturing period of prescription itself, for, the consent
of the people being once given to the usurper, the
position of the dispossessed ruler is thereb}^ considerably
weakened and often rendered wholh' impossible, with
corresponding strengthening in the position of the
usurper.!
A word will be necessary on the various ways in
which the people ma}^ signify consent in favour of the
usurping government. Consent may be given formally
and directly or implicitly and indirectly.
Formal consent is given by a special act meant to
• We may remark also that should the people, while the old govern-
ment is still in existence and h.is a chance of retrieving its position,
unlawfully give their consent to the new monarch, then, though that
consent is not sufTicicnt to confer sovereign authority on the usurper
(the people in that case not being the source from wliich consent
should l>e .sought), yet by signifying their acceptance of the usurper
they indirectly hasten the period of legitimation for the two reasons
given in the text, viz. their action weakens the jxisition and the (hances
of the old government, and strengthens tliat of the usurper. After
such consent, prescriptive rights arc bound to form with great rapidity.
t Napoleon was crowned emperor by the Pope only live years atter
the suppression of the Directory and the establishment of the Consulate.
Hut in the meantime he had obtained a plebiscite in his favour
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 535
indicate consent, as bv a plebiscite, an unlimited oath
of fidelity, addresses of loyalty from the people. Formal
consent may be given in a single act as in the case of
plebiscite in which the whole people vote their consent
at one time, or in a number of acts spread over a number
of years, e.g. by addresses of loyalty on different occa-
sions from various popular bodies. Opposed to formal
consent is formal dissent which is sometimes conveyed
by protests of disloyalty, and sometimes by rebellion.*
Implicit or indirect consent is conveyed in some act,
the primary purpose of which is not to express con-
sent, but which nevertheless implies acceptance of the
new government. It is either negative or positive.
Negative consent consists in not protesting when one
Sought to protest. Positive implied consent is given by
[any act that tends directly to consolidate and establish
ithe usurping government, or that involves direct co-
loperation with it. The following are some examples
[of positive implied consent : the acceptance of certain
Igovernment offices, e.g. any office in army or navy, or
in the higher civil service, or the diplomatic service ;
[any general recognition on the part of the people that
mch offices ought to be accepted ; lending money f to
jovernment, as in the purchase of " Consols " ; borrow-
ig it ; J the use of the franchise or other political
)rivilegcs conceded by the existing government ;
creating a national party in the new parliament. We
lay add also-— acceptance of a system of local govern-
[ment under the supreme authority' of the central
[executive. The people by taking part in this system
* Not all rebellion, however, is to be taken as evidence of opposition
fto the existence of the usurping government, but only a rebellion
mdertaken by the whole people, and undertaken precisely in order to
jverthrow the usurper. Rebellion which is undertaken in order to
put an end to unjust or tyrannical laws could not be regarded as an
net of dissent impeding the legitimation of the usurper. Such a
rebellion is often started by persons who are quite satisfied with the
ftxisting constitution.
t To lend money to government is to aid it in the most direct
manner.
X A borrower is always compromised.
536 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
participate in the most direct way in the rule of the
central authority.
These are all acts that tend more or less directly to
consolidate the position of the de facto government,
and they are undoubted evidences of popular consent.
Any steady and long-continued manifestation of
popular consent given in any of these ways, either by
the people themselves, the leaders of the people, or the
representative newspapers, is to be regarded as a natural
title, making for the legitimation of the usurping govern-
ment. Such consent would be most potent as a title
of legitimation even in the early period of the usurper's
career, but it is of decisive moment when given by the
mass of the people after a long period of years. Consent
given then is sure proof that the new government has
grown into the substance of the nation, and that the
usurper is now in peaceful possession. A section of
the people may still be discontented, and may still hope
at a future time and by some good turn of fortune
to throw off the yoke imposed upon them ; the people,
even as a whole, may feel no enthusiasm for the new
rSgime ; yet, once the people have accepted the
authority of the new government in any of the ways
just indicated, the authority of the new ruling body
may then be regarded as fully established and secured
in natural law.
It occurs to us to add that we fully acknowledge tlie
hard position in which a nationality sometimes finds
itself through the legitimation of a usurping govern-
ment. It is hard on an old nation to find itself deprived
of all hope of ever again regaining its independence,
except through constitutional means which may be
futile, or by violation of the natural law. But it has
to be remembered that the title by which the legitima-
tion of the usurper is cflected is grounded primarily on
the needs of the people. It v: their need of a govern-
ment in order to secure order and tranquillity, and not
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 537
the fulfilment of the usurper's ambitions, that forms
the chief natural ground of legitimation in the case of
a de facto government. This fundamental title is then
later supplemented by other needs and rights of the
people, those, viz. that give rise to prescription, and b}''
acts indicating popular consent.
Much, therefore, though one may sympathise with
the hard fate of a conquered nation * there can be no
doubt about the moral principles governing their position.
If government is legitimate the people have to stand by
the principle that a legitimate government has a right to
the allegiance of its subjects. Of course it takes a long
time before a usurping government is legitimised, but
once legitimised, the people are bound to give it due
obedience and respect. But whatever may be the duties
of a conquered nation in respect of the legitimised
government, there alwaj^s remains to it a natural right
of self-defence should the government ever become
gravely tyrannical or oppressive. This right' will be
treated in a later section where the grounds and con-
ditions of lawful resistance to oppression are fully ex-
plained, f
EXCLUSIVE ABILITY TO GOVERN
In Politics we have to take account not only of normal
but also of abnormal and almost unaccountable con-
ditions. It is for this reason that we venture to call
the reader's attention to one additional title of political
authority, of which under normal conditions he could
not reasonably be expected to take serious account,
viz. exclusive ability to govern. As long as men are
men, individuals will be found vain and foolish enough
^to imagine themselves the chosen of the gods and alone
* The lot of a conquered nationality ought to be made as easy as
jssible, and as much political liberty ought to be allowed it as is
insistent with the safety of the State. If possible it should be
jiccorded the right of self-government as was shown in our discussion
i>n nationality, p. 511.
t P- 54^
538 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
fitted to direct and govern the multitude. But cir-
cumstances may arise in which a particular individual
may really stand out, either through his own paramount
excellence, through the degeneracy of all the others, or
because of mutual jealousies and rivalries, as alone fitted
to take on the role of ruler, and in that case nature will
not set up an opposing plea of vanity or presumption,
but will accept even this self-constituted ruler, and
confer on him the necessary authority for the sake of
the good that he may effect.*
These, it seems to us, are the chief titles operative
in the setting up of the State. But once the State is
in being with a constituted ruler at its head, it can then
devise a method of succession more suitable to the
circumstances of each particular State ; and the par-
ticular method determined on will thereafter constitute
the only rightful title of sovereignt}-, until it is replaced
constitutionally by another, f
The Consequences of Authority
To every right there is a correlative obligation.
Corresponding to the right of the ruler to direct his
subjects there is imposed on these subjects an obliga-
tion of obedience, respect, co-operation. The citizen is
bound to obey the laws of the State, provided that
• Aristotle's account of the case is distinctly humorous. Such a
person, he tells us, would simply have to be made king, for what else
would you make him ? " It would not be right to kill, or ostracise
or exile such a person, 6r require that he should take his turn in being
governed." — Pol. III. 17.
t It is necessary here to meet the view that there is only one possible
title of political rule, viz. the consent of the governed. This is an
essentially false idea. In one case only is the consent of the governed
necessary as a title of political authority, viz. the case of a direct
democracy. In this case, of course, the people, being already possessed
of the supreme political authority, can confer their authority on
whom they please, and so may introduce a new form of constitution
iiuch ;is that of monarchy or aristocracy or representative democracy.
In no other case is commission by the people at large an essential
or neccsiiary title. For full discu.ssion on this subject sec p. 501.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 539
these laws fulfil all the conditions required for validity,
i.e. that they are made by a properly constituted ruler,
that their enactment fulfils the technicalities, if any,
required by the constitution, that their fulfilment is
possible, that they promote the public good in some
way, that they are not opposed to the natural law.
Only where a law is obviously invalid as faihng to fulfil
these conditions is the subject justified in decHning
obedience to it. There are even cases where a subject
might be bound to conform to a law which he knows to
be invalid, where, viz. conformity with it is not sinful,
but where also it is necessary in order to avoid grave
public disturbance.
Again, subjects should treat their ruler with respect.
Respect is the recognition of superior excellence
in another, and the ruler from his position is superior
to the subject ruled. Respect indicates acknowledgment
of his right to rule.
Subjects should also co-operate with the ruler in
promoting the public welfare. The law to promote
the welfare of society is first of all a law binding society
itself, and it is only because society cannot achieve
this end without a ruler that the ruler is appointed
with the express office of taking the means necessary
to its attainment. But if the obligation to promote
the general good binds the State from the beginning,
it is surely the duty of the members of the State not
merely to obey the laws of the ruler but also to desire
the common good, and also, as far as in them lies, to
co-operate with the sovereign ruler in promoting it.
Opposed to this duty of obedience, respect and co-
operation there are three classes of sins— first, disobedience
to the public laws ; second, disrespect for authority ;
third, rebellion. Of these three sins the last is the
gravest and most terrible. Disobedience is in a sense
a purely negative attitude of the subject. It means
simple non-conformity with the laws. Disrespect, though
a serious sin, is ^-et compatible with the acceptance of
540 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
one's position as subject, and of one's recognition of
the rights and position of the ruler as head of the State.
Rebelhon is a complete reversion of the position of
ruler and subject. It is the gravest of all possible
crimes against the State. For that reason it will be
necessary to say a few words on the nature of rebellion,
and on the question of its unlawfulness.
ON REBELLION
Rebellion is an act of armed aggression on the part of
the citizens against the government.
First, rebellion is an act of physical violence, of armed
attack. No degree of moral opposition to the government,
even though provocative of widespread disaffection, could
constitute a rebellion. Secondly, rebellion is an armed
uprising, not against a particular minister or party, but
against the crown, the constitution, the sovereign ruling
authority. Thirdly, rebellion is an act of aggression. In
rebellion it is the citizens who take the offensive against
the government, just as in murder it is the murderer who
first attacks. We do not speak of the act of a man defending
himself against an unjust aggressor as murder, even though
his act involves the death of the aggressor. So also, when
the citizens defend themselves against tyranny and grave
oppression on the part of the government their act is one
not of rebellion,* but of self-defence only. In rebellion, we
repeat, it is the citizens who take the offensive against the
government, making an unprovoked attack on it, in order
to effect its overthrow.
That rebellion is a sin, a violation of the natural law, can
easily be established. First, a lawful and authoritative
government has a right to obedience from the citizens, i.e.
its laws should be obeyed ; and therefore any attempt to
overthrow the government by armed violence is unnatural
and wrong. Such an act is not merely an act of disobedience,
but it is the most radical act of disobedience conceivable,
since it strikes at the very source and fountain of law itself
— the sovereign government. Secondly, rebellion is a com-
plete reversal of the natural order. The attitude which
nature requires in a person who is subject, is an attitude of
subjection, of submission. In rebellion this order is reversed.
♦ Sec A. Meyer, S.J., " Institutioncs Juris Naturalis," II. 509
and 516.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 541
The subjects subject the ruler to themselves, and in the most
extreme manner possible by attempting his overthrow.
There could be no more direct or unequivocal perversion of
the natural order than this. Thirdly, rebelhon is a crime
against the community, for, if government is necessary for
the welfare of the community, rebellion reverses this con-
dition and leads invariably to confusion, disturbance, and
irretrievable loss.
Rebellion, therefore, is always a de-ordination and a
crime. It is always a violation of natural law And since
the natural law is rooted in the eternal law of God, and
since all civil authority, being of natural law, is also
ultimately from God, so rebellion is a grave violation of
the Divine Law, and a grave sin.
We now come to the problem of the position of the people
under a tyrannical government. What if the sovereign
should become tyrannical, if he habitually oppresses the
people ? What if instead of seeking their welfare, which
is the essential and exclusive end of government, he loses
sight of this end entirely, and seeks to promote his own
good at their expense ? Have the people no remedy against
such injustice and oppression ? We answer — every man and
every body of men is given by nature the right of self-defence
against unjust aggression, and this right holds good no
matter what the source from which the attack proceeds —
whether it comes from some private individual or from the
head of the State. And, therefore, the people have a right
to resist and defend themselves against oppression, and to
take all the necessary means of defence, even the dethrone-
ment of the ruler.
Such resistance is not to be spoken of as rebellion, which,
as we have said, always denotes aggression on the part of
the people. It is an act of self-defence and nothing more.
It is no more rebellion than disabling one who has the
strangle grip on another and attempts to kill him is murder.
This is not a question of names only, it is a question of
fact and reality, with immense significance in the moral
law. Resistance in self-defence is not a crime, it is an
act wholly different from that of unjust aggression, and
we have no right, therefore, to include it in the same
category as rebellion, which is essentially an act of
;gression.
Nor can it be said, when resistance is resorted to in self-
fence, that the people are responsible for the consequences.
It is the tyrannical ruler, and not the people, who is
ponsible for those terrible consequences that always
542 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
accompany an uprising of the people, since it is he that
provoked the people into resistance. " A tyrannical regime,"'
writes St. Thomas,* " is never just, because it is ordained,
not to the good of the people, but to that of the ruler himself
(this being the definition of tyrannical rule). And, therefore,
to disturb a res^ime of this kind is not sedition . . . rather it
is the tyrant who is guilty of sedition by sowing discords
among the people in order that Lis dominion over them
may be the more secure." It is the undoubted right of
every man to defend himself against unjust aggression (some
necessary conditions being fulfilled) in spite of the indirect
consequences.
We see, therefore, that the people have a right to defend
themselves against an oppressive government. But to resist
the government is always an extrerrie measure, and, there-
fore, it can only be resorted to in extreme cases and under
certain well-defined conditions of natural law. Four such
conditions have been enumerated by a very eminent writer
on the subject of resistance to the civil authority. " Re-
sistance is lawful," he writes,? (i) when a government has
become substantially and habituallj^ tyrannical, and that is
when it has lost sight of the common good, and pursues
its own selfish objects to the manifest detriment of the
subjects, especially where their rcHgious interests arc con-
cerned ; (2) when all legal and pacific means have been
tried in vain to recall the ruler to a sense of his duty ; (3)
when there is a reasonable probability that resistance will
be successful, and not entail greater evils than it seeks to
remove ; (4) when the judgment formed as to the badness
of the government, and the prudence of resistance thereto,
is not the opinion only of private persons or of a mere party,
but is that of the larger and better portion of the people,
so that it may morally be considered as the judgment of
the community as a whole."
* " S. Theol." II. II., Q. XLII. 2. The reference here to sedition
noed.s some explanation. St. Thomas is showing that sedition (in
its technical sense of sowing discord amongst the people) is always
unlawful. By way of objection to this thesis he then asks whether
it is not lawful to free a people from the yoke of a tyrant ; and since
this is always accompanied by dissensions, some wishing to follow
the tyrant, some the op|X)sing leaders, would it not seem that sedition
or causing (lissensions amongst the people is sometimes lawful ? }h-
then gives the answer (juoted in the text above.
t We follow I-'ather Kickaby in taking our statement of the con
ditions necessary for lawful resistance to government from an article'
in the Ihthlin Review for April, 18O5. It is the briefest and the best
statement of these conditions with which we arc acquainted.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 543
The enumeration of these conditions suggests certain
important considerations, (i) The people cannot resort to
physical resistance for the redress of any and every grievance.
If they could, the normal condition of every country would be
one of civil war, and peaceful progress would wholly cease.
In every nation there are innumerable conflicting interests
to be considered and some people are bound to suffer in-
justice. These ordinary injustices the people should aim
at remedying by constitutional means only. Resistance to
government can be tolerated only in the case of a govern-
ment that has become substantially and habitually tyrannical.
(2) The conditions of lawful self-defence are substantially
the same in the case of resistance to individual private ag-
gression and that of aggression by the government. Now,
in the former case, a man cannot kill another in self-defence
if he can escape the aggression in any other way. So also
if a tyrannical government may be brought to reason by
constitutional means it has a right to be brought to reason
by constitutional means. In this connection it occurs to
us also to remark that under modern conditions it is ex-
ceedingly difficult to imagine a set of circumstances which
would justify a people in offering armed resistance to the
Crown even in case of oppression. In most civilised countries
the people are given by the constitution full and effective
means for calling an oppressive government to account, and
of speedily rendering it impotent for evil. In a Republic,
president and government can be rejected at the polls : in
monarchies that are subject to the system of Parliamentary
government, like England, Italy, Belgium, the real executive
i.e. the Cabinet, can be made to resign ; whilst in Germany
the representatives of the people can make government
impossible by refusing supplies. In all these cases, of course,
tyranny may be possible, but it cannot be long-continued,
and can hardly ever be hopeless. (3) There must be a hope
of success, i.e. a hope that the tyranny exercised by govern-
ment will be brought to an end, or at least that the beginnings
of improvement may be effected. (4) In most countries
there is a party known as the revolutionist party that would
undertake to direct the people and compel them to rise in
tsistance for " the people's good." In most cases these
jivolutionary parties look to their own good only ; but
lether they do or not they have no right either to drive
le people to resistance against their will, or to initiate
Ssistance unsupported by the mass of the people. If the
sople are satisfied with the government or satisfied to wait
id to seek redress by constitutional endeavour (and they
544 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
should do so if such means offers a hope of success) then
no party has any right to resort to any other means, much
less to compel the people to rise.*
The Attributes of Political Authority
The attributes of political authority are determined
by the nature of political authority and the nature of
the State. They are — unity and sovereignty.
On unity
The supreme political authority must be one. By
this we do not mean that it must reside in one person
— it may be borne by a large number of persons. Neither
do we mean that it is necessarily undivided. The
various parts or functions of political authority may be
divided amongst many persons or bodies, each distinct
from, and independent of, every other. For instance,
in the United States the supreme legislative authority
lies in Congress, the supreme executive authority vests
in the President. By the unity of political authority
we mean that, just as in the living body there cannot
be man}^ lives, but only one, from which vitality extends
to all the members, so in the State there can be only
one supreme authority directing the community to
its end, and the supreme ruler will be that person, or
body, or group of bodies in whom the supreme authority
resides. One State, one supreme ruler, one authority.
An organism that was informed by many lives would
be, not one organism, but many ; or rather, it would
not be an organism at all, which essentially implies
unity and harmony in its parts, but an inorganic sub-
stance manifesting different and opposing attributes,
and torn by distracting and dissentient forces. So, also,
if there were many supreme authorities in the State
the people would be constituted into many States, not
one, and the whole community would be directed
• Sec " Dc Rcgiminc Principum," I. 6. For the special question
of resistance by a conquered nation sec p. 53O.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 545
not to one but to many and opposing objects. The
same reasoning that demonstrates the necessity of a
ruler in society, implies also that the supreme ruler
should be one, one person or group of persons, and,
therefore, the supreme authority should itself be one.
ON SOVEREIGNTY
The conception of sovereignty.
By sovereignty is meant the legal supremacy * of
the State. It is made up of two elements — a positive
and a negative element. Sovereignty confers on the
ruler of the State a positive right of supreme rule, a
right to command and direct the people in everything
necessary for the good of the body politic. The negative
element implied in sovereignt}- is that of complete legal
independence of other States. The positive element in
sovereignty it will not be necessary to discuss at this
point, since we have already fully examined the rights
which nature confers on the State in reference to those
subject to it. But it will be necessary to get a clear
idea of what is meant by legal independence as an
a+ tribute of the State.
Sovereignt}' is, above all things, a legal conception. It
means that in law (the natural law of course) the State
has a right to certain things. Physically a State might
be prevented from using its powers and rights in par-
ticular cases, but the legal or juridical rights conveyed
by the term " sovereignty " will remain as long as the
State remains. Again, sovereignt}^ implies the legal
independence of the State, i.e. its complete independence
of other States. Now the independence of the State in
le present connection is a very technical conception
lat needs to be carefully interpreted. It means the
le thing as the complete self-dependence of the State,
the fact that its rights derive from itself, are native- to
* As appears later it might be more correct to say that it consists
\radical legal supremacy.
VOL. n— 35
546 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
itself, that they are not merely delegated to it by another
State, or exercised by virtue of powers conferred on it by
any other State or body. In other words, independence
means that legally and juridically the State is not sub-
ject to any other political body. Any community that
exercises its powers by virtue of authority conferred on
it by another, or in the exercise of which it is legally
subordinate to another, cannot be supreme or sovereign,
and is not a State. Canada and Australia, though pos-
sessing a high degree of autonomy, are not sovereign
communities and, therefore, are not States. Their
powers are derived from, and are exercised under the
superior jurisdiction of Great Britain.
But this legal independence as an attribute of
sovereignty requires to be still further examined. A
State might dc facto be largely dependent on other
political bodies and be very far from enjojing complete
freedom of action ; it might actually contract away a
great deal of its freedom, and be bound by innumerable
obligations towards other States, and still be sovereign.
Every State in the world is to some extent bound by
obligations to other States, they are to some extent,
therefore, dependent de facto on one another. They
are not wholly free in their dealings with one another.
Sometimes the limitations placed on their freedom are
self-imposed, that is, they are imposed by treaty : some-
times they are not. After the Franco-Prussian war
Prussia imposed obligations on France, the imposition
of which obligations France could not resist. Yet
France remained sovereign. Why ? Because it still
retained all the legal or juridical authority required
for a State, and that authority was original and un-
derived. Its authority was not delegated to it by any
other power. There are countries which enjoy very
little dc facto freedom of action in regard to the things
that are essentially functions of State. Afghanistan
allows all its external relations to be regulated by
England ; both England and Russia cnjjoy very wide
I
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 547
powers over Persian finance ; France and England
exercise a large control over the government of Morocco.
Yet these are sovereign States. They are sovereign
because, even though they are not allowed to use their
powers with all the freedom of other States, yet their
powers are their own. their authority is original. It is
not delegated authority derived from other States.
Between the years 1904 and 1910 the independence of
Korea was exceedingl}^ attenuated through the control
over its affairs assumed by Japan. Japanese financial
and diplomatic advisers * were appointed to manage
the various departments of Korean administration. In
190=, it was even settled that the Japanese Foreign
Office should direct the external affairs of Korea. And
yet during all that time Korea was treated as (and was)
fully sovereign. In the comity of nations it counted
as an independent State, and diplomatic representatives
from foreign powers were accredited to it. Later, how-
ever, through its annexation to Japan in 1910, it lost
its sovereignty and ceased to be a State.
From these instances it is evident that a State may
possess sovereign authority and be treated as a sovereign
person in International Law, even though it is not free
in the actual exercise of its powers, just as a man may
still be a human person though deprived of liberty.
A community is sovereign as long as its authority is
its own and not derived from other States. And thus
we are confronted with the strange contrast of countries
like Australia, enjoying almost complete freedom, which
yet are not sovereign, and a country like Persia, weighed
down with all the encumbrances that foreign govern-
ments have successively imposed upon her, which yet is
sovereign. The reason is that the Australian Common-
wealth derives all its authority from England ; the old-
world authority of Iran is from itself.
Granted then that a State is radically self-dependent,
in the sense explained, its freedom may de facto be
* See Lawrence, " Principles of International Law," p. 67.
548 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
limited in many ways, but, as Bryce remarks,* " third
parties [i.e. other States) are not prima facie bound to
pay any regard to the fact that the inferior State is
de facto dependent. They may properly treat it as being
completely sovereign."
The content of sovereignty.
{a) Sovereignty includes full legal control over all
affairs of State (that is, the things required by the
common good) both in its external relations and in
regard to internal government. Some writers f main-
tain that sovereignty includes a right of control over
the internal affairs only of the State. But sovereignty is
a superlative term and connotes the fullest independence
in regard to all affairs. A community which is inde-
pendent in regard to internal matters, but in its external
relations is subordinate to another community or another
body, is not a Sovereign State, and, therefore, not a
State in any sense. Indeed, if sovereignty were to cover
any part of the affairs of the country it should more
rightly cover its external relations than what are properly
internal matters, since sovereignty is primarily an inter-
national conception ; it means, above all things,
supremacy as against, or complete independence of, other
States, and, therefore, a right of defending itself against
other States, But, whether external or internal control
is primary, it is certain that both are necessary for
sovereignty, and that a nation which could control
its internal affairs but not its external, could no more
be spoken of as sovereign in the proper sense than a
man could be spoken of as independent who had
from nature a faculty of control over his thoughts
only, and not over his external movements.
Case of the United States. — ^We know that the com-
ponent States of America are often spoken of as sovereign,
* " Studies," II. 103,
t e.g. Cathrcin, " Moralphilosophic," II. sjo.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 549
and to this fact appeal is sometimes made as showing that
internal control is sufficient for sovereignty, this being the
extent of power which these several States enjoy. But by
the sovereignty of these States is meant merely that the
federation is not sovereign over them as England is sovereign
over Austraha, that the component States do not derive
their jurisdiction from the federal Parhament, that their
authority is original and even preceded the founding of the
federation, and that, in the constitution of the United States,
the federal government has only definite powers assigned to
it, the whole residue being still in the possession of the com-
ponent States. But the component States are not sovereign
in the proper sense either in Germany or in America. Just
as the powers of sovereignty are divided in England between
King, Lords, and Commons, so they are divided in America *
between the rulers of the component States, the rulers of
the federation, and the people of the whole country. We
include these latter because to them special legislative
powers have been accorded in regard to measures designed
to effect changes in the constitution.! Being possessed,
therefore, of only a share in the powers of sovereignty, the
component States cannot be spoken of as sovereign.
Neither, of course, are they States in the proper sense of
the word, since sovereignty is an inseparable characteristic
of the State.
{b) Sovereignty, therefore, implies a right of control
over all affairs of State, external and internal, but, as
we have remarked already, only in so far as the good of
the State requires. For the most part, of course, the
rulers of States are themselves the best judges of the
needs and interests of the community ; but we insist
on our present limiting condition because it has been
contended by certain writers that the sovereignty of
* As Bryce insists, it is absurd to think that sovereignty must
necessarily rest in one determinate person, or body. The powers
J of sovereignty together make up the sovereignty of the nation, and
"lese powers, as is sho\vn in the text, may rest in many bodies each
idependent of the other. The sovereignty of the Uni ed States hes
ithin the United States, but divided over many bodies and centres.
t No such powers are enjoyed by the people of England. No
loubt the people elect the members of parliament and, therefore,
lesignate the rulers, but no part of the actual ruling of the country is
itrusted to them as is the case in America. In England, therefore,
le people do not share in the nation's sovereignty.
550 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the State extends to every kind of act, whether good or
bad, that it cannot be limited by moral considerations
of any kind, that, in fact, anything that the State de-
sires, it has a right to do. " A modern judge," writes
Dicey,* " would never listen to a barrister who argued
that an Act of Parliament was invalid because it was
immoral or because it went beyond the limits of Parlia-
mentary authority. The plain truth is that our tribunals
uniformly act on the principle that a law alleged to be
bad is ex hypothesi a law and, therefore, entitled to
obedience by the courts." And Sidgwick insists | that
the authority of Parliament is absolutely unlimited " in
the ordinary consciousness of English citizens," and that
" in endeavouring to ascertain what the law of England
is we never ask what Parliament has authority to do,
but only what it has done." He claims also that " any
language which encourages a man to claim as valid,
here and now, rights not actually secured by the estab-
lished law of his country, is dangerously revolutionary."
But surely there are moral limitations to the rights
of Parliament and of the State. Surely if Parliament
ordered the indiscriminate massacre of a portion of the
people, say because they were Protestants or Catholics
or Jews, or because they were a trouble to the govern-
ment, no judge would regard a law of the kind as valid.
But whether the judges see their way to administer a law
of the kind or not, or whether to oppose it is dangerous
to public order or not, or whatever may be the mentalit}^
of British citizens, such an order as this would be
opposed to the natural principles of justice, and would
not have the force of a law, and every citizen would
have a clear right of opposing its execution. The civil
IX)wcr8 have a right to act for the good of the community.
They have no right to do what is clearly wrong, immoral,
or unjust, and they have no right to force on people
courses of action which arc cither unjust or manifcsUv
* op, cit, p. 60.
t Elements of Political Science," p. i j
I
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 551
absurd or unprofitable. The natural law is above the
civil law, is deeper and more fundamental ; it is itself
the ground of the civil law, and gives to the civil powers
all their authority. The civil law, therefore, cannot act
in contravention of the natural law, and laws enacted
in contravention of nature are invalid from their ver}^
foundation.
Sovereignty — a necessary attribute of State.
That sovereignty is a necessary attribute of the
supreme political authority in any State scarcely needs
to be established, so evidently is it contained in the very
notion of the State, The State is the highest possible
natural society ; its end is the highest and the widest
that can be entertained, and that is attainable by natural
means, viz. the good of the race. It includes, as we saw,
everything that is needed for human welfare and de-
velopment. And since this end is the widest possible,
so the end of the State cannot be included in the end
of any other natural institution, and, therefore, it is
independent of every other natural institution.* This
is the fir.st, the negative element in sovereignty — com-
plete self-centredness and independence. The positive
element is obviously also included in the nature of
political authority. The end of political authority is
the good of the whole community, and since the general
good is superior to the good of the part, so political
authority confers a right of direction over all the parts
of the State, and a right to command these parts in so
far as the good of the whole requires. Sovereignty is,
* The question might be raised — Is not the good of the whole
race wider and higher than the good of any part of the race, and,
therefore, may not sovereignty vest in the whole race only and not
in the State ? We answer, the State is a self-sufficient community,
and, therefore, as a living thing it is quite independent of the rest of
the race, and would still have the same powers and attributes that
it has, even if the rest of the race were to disappear. Complete
powers, therefore, vest in it independently of the other parts of the
race. It is, therefore, completely sovereign.
552 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
therefore, a natural attribute of the political authority
of the State.
Some modern writers * have maintained that sovereignty
is only an " historical category," i.e. that it was not an
attribute of all the earlier States, that it became prominent
as a feature of State authority only in recent times, that,
therefore, it is not essential to the State. The chief grounds
appealed to in favour of this view are, first, the fact that
in ancient and mediaeval times certain communities that
were admittedly States acknowledged a certain subordina-
tion to other powers, e.g. the ancient Roman States acknow-
ledged the sovereignty of Caesar ; some of the old State
towns admitted the supremacy of the League ; the feudal
States owed allegiance to the Emperor ; secondly, the con-
ception of sovereignty was a gradual development, and
was finally and fully developed only in Bodin's time or
later.
Now, these difficulties should not be allowed to militate
against sovereignty as an essential attribute of the State,
since, as we saw, it is contained in the very conception of
the State. The first argument serves only to prove that
either some of those ancient and mediaeval communities
which are sometimes spoken of as States were really not
States in the true sense of the term, but provinces or de-
pendencies of States, or that if they were States they were
Sovereign in spite of certain allegiances owned by them,
just as in modern times there are States admitted into the
comity of nations and treated as fully sovereign in spite of
certain admitted elements of dependence. From the second
argument the only conclusion that follows is that an attribute
may be present even though the conception of it grows and
clarifies with time. In ancient and mediaeval times States
were not as clearly marked off from one another as they
now are ; their competing interests were not so defined ;
and, therefore, the conception of sovereignty was not so
prominent and did not need such full and clear definition as
is at present the case. But any community which was
indisputably a State was sovereign in ancient and mediaeval
times as well as now.
• JcUinek — " Das Recht dcs Modcrnen Staatcs.'
sh;
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 553
The seat of sovereignty, or, where sovereignty resides.
Sovereignty does not necessarily reside in any one
person or body, since sovereignty is not indivisible. All
sharers in the supreme governing authority, all those
who exercise governmental authority which is not dele-
gated authority, are sharers in the sovereignty of the
State, and these constitute between them the seat of
sovereignty. In England, King, Lords, and Commons
constitute the seat of sovereignty. They are the
supreme rulers, exercising between them the functions
of legislation and administration, whilst the judicial
authority they delegate to the judges to be exercised
on their behalf. The people in England are not sharers
in the sovereign authority because they do not exercise
governmental authority. Their function is to appoint
a portion of the niling body {i.e. the members of the
House of Commons) but they do not themselves rule or
exercise any ruling function ; the sovereign is he who^
exercises supreme ruling authority.
The people, of course, exercise immense power in
England, since it is their right to appoint the rulers.
For that reason some writers have attributed to the
people of England a special kind of sovereignty which
they speak of as " political sovereignty," and which,^
they tell us, is to be carefully distinguished from the
" legal sovereignty " of the ruler proper. But, as we
saw before, sovereignty is essentially an attribute of
the authority of the ruler, and, therefore, only the
ruler has sovereignty of any kind. It should, indeed, be
possible to discover a special word that would express
the special and immense power which the English people
wield over legislation through their right to elect the
legislators. But sovereignty, even though modified by
e word " political," is not the word.
In America, on the other hand, the people are really
sharers in the sovereignty of the State. For not only
n America is Congress elected by the people, but the
554 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
people exercise a special and most important function
of government, viz. the legislative function of altering
the constitution. In America, sovereignty is divided
amongst many bodies and persons — the State govern-
ments, the federal government, and the people exer-
cising their right of altering the constitution. And
since this latter right is the most fundamental of all,
the people are sometimes said to exercise complete
sovereignty in America. The people, however, do not
exercise complete sovereignty. Sovereignty is shared
by the State and federal governments also. The
authority of these latter bodies is not delegated by the
people. Their acts are valid, even though they may
run counter to the wishes of the whole people.
SOME POINTS IN REGARD TO SOVEREIGNTY EMPHASISED
(i) " The kind of sovereignty we have been considering,"
writes Bryce,* " is erected by and concerned with law only.
It has nothing to do with the actual forces that exist in a
State or with the question to whom obedience is in fact
rendered by the citizens in the last resort. . . . The actual
receiving of obedience is, therefore, not (as some have
argued) the characteristic mark of a sovereign authority."
Whether any writer has at any time been bold enough to
identify in general terms the two conceptions of sovereignty
and the possession of supreme physical overbearing power,
we do not know, but it is certain that theories are held in
whicli tlicsc two conceptions tend to coalesce, and in which
such statements occur as that, even though physical might
is not the definition, it is at least an ins(']iarable characteristic
of sovereignty.
Now, that physical might is ncitlier the definition nor an
inseparable attribute of sovereignty is certain. If it were,
there would exist on earth no person or body that could
be described as sovereign. For there is no government
that is so strong as that it could resist the whole organised
opposition of the people. But then it will he said with
Rousseau, that sovereignty resides with the people, with
tlic volontd g6ndralc. We answer that even if this were true
our contention would still hold good, for, first, there is no
• " Studies," II. 50.
THE STATE— ITS PARTS 555
people that is absolutely proof against having its enactments
reduced to nought by divisions amongst the people them-
selves ; and secondly, there is no people and no government
that could effectively resist the combined opposition of all
other governments and peoples. If, therefore, actual might
or physical fitness to overbear all opposition is a necessity of
sovereignty then there could be no such thing as sovereignty
in the world. Evidently, therefore, the conception of
sovereignty contains some element besides that of mere
physical constraining power.
(2) Austin's theory of sovereignty is closely alhed to that
which we have just been criticising. According to Austin,
that is the sovereign power which is itself not subject to
another power, and to which obedience is habitually accorded
by the great bulk of the people. He raises no question as
to whether for sovereignty obedience ought to be accorded
or not ; if it really is habitually accorded to any power, that
power is sovereign. Now it will readily be conceded by us
that in most States the sovereign power does really command
the habitual obedience of its subjects, and that as a rule the
two conceptions are at least co-terminous. For this reason,
also, the rendering of obedierice is generally to be regarded
as a good working test of sovereignty, in the sense of affording
a clear indication of where sovereignty lies. We go farther,
and insist that habitual obedience to a given person or body
of persons might in some cases operate as a title to sovereign
authority, and place the supreme political rights in the
hands of some person or persons who otherwise might have
no title to rule ; and this view is all the more easily de-
fensible since the word " habitual" may be interpreted as
indicating a very long period of time — as it evidently
indicates much more than obedience tendered during short
or intermittent periods. If the great bulk of the people
paid wilhng homage for a hundred or two hundred years
to someone as their supreme ruler, such a person, even if
there were no other title, might readily make appeal through
such homage to some one of the natural titles of authority
already enumerated, as entitling him to the supreme and
sovereign right to rule.
Nevertheless, it is impossible to accept even the rendering
of habitual obedience as a complete or even correct definition
of sovereignty. For, first, it is not absolutely coterminous
with sovereignty ; sovereignty may be present without it.
If a new State were created, its government would be
sovereign from the first day of its appointment, and for
that day or for very long afterwards there could be no ques-
556 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
tion of its having received habitual obedience. Secondly, a
people might be in rebellion for a very long time, having, let
us say, resolved on anarchy, so that it could not be said that
obedience, actual or habitual, was being paid to anybody.
Nevertheless, in that case the existing government would be
fully sovereign, and would have a full right of coercing the
bulk of its subjects, of punishing them, and of using all the
resources at its command against them. Thirdly, even if
sovereignty and the habitual enjoyment of the people's
obedience were coterminous, the two conceptions are not
identical, and one is not to be accepted as a definition of
the other, since habitual obedience presupposes sovereignty,
is a result of it, i.e. is rendered because the ruler is already
regarded by the people as legally sovereign. But what
presupposes and normally results from sovereignty cannot be
said to constitute it or to be its definition.
From all this it is evident that Austin's definition falls
short of the reality, because it ignores the really salient
element in sovereignty which is the right to exact not only
habitual but actual obedience. Any definition that fails
to take account of this juridical or moral element will always
be found, because it is inadequate, not to square with the
facts. Philosophers may attempt for purposes of scientific
precision to ehminate this intangible element, as it is called,
the element of natural right, but in the last resort it is on
this element that the State will generally be found to rely,
not to beat down opposition when it arises, for which, of
course, the exercise of physical force is the only ultimate
remedy, but to prevent opposition by securing a willing
obedience on the part of reasonable people, and also to
defend the lives and liberties of the people against foreign
powers.* There is no nation that will not claim that its
rights have been violated before going to war with other
nations.
* The theory defended by Seeley (op. cit.) and by Green (" Lectures
on the Principles of Political Obligation ") that sovereignty properly
resides with the people because it is the good will of the people that
renders government stable, may be answered from the arguments given
in the text above. It is just a special form of the theory that identifies
sovereignty with might.
The theory of Rousseau that sovereignty is indivisible and that,
therefore, it has only one chief function, viz. legislation, is too obviously
false to be considered here. Government is an older and more in-
dispensable function of sovereignty than legislation ; also in nearly
every State the two forms vest in different bodies, each independent
of the other.
CHAPTER XVII
ON THE FORMS OF THE STATE, AND ON
CONSTITUTIONS
CLASSIFICATION OF THE FORMS OF STATE
A QUESTION that may reasonably be asked in reference
to the subject-matter of the present chapter is whether
any real classification of States is possible, i.e. whether
it is possible to discover a few fixed categories or types
which will really include not only all existent but also
all the possible forms of State, The difficulties in the
way of such classification are many and obvious. First,
there are the number and variety of States ; every
country seems to adopt a form peculiarly its own, and to
develop along lines suitable to its own needs ; secondl}',
the various forms of State are not given ready-made in
nature, but are devised to meet the circumstances of
each case, whereas clapsification presupposes a number
of fixed forms or types to which all must conform, if
not completely, at least in a very large degree ; thirdly,
such forms as do exist are not distinct but grow into
one another, passing through numerous transitional
forms, each as important, because as real, as what are
supposed to be the main types, whereas the problem of
clas.„ification would seem to require a definite line of
division between the forms of State ; fourthly, whereas
in nature one form of being excludes another (the same
thing, for instance, cannot be a dog and a rose-tree, a
man and a tiger) in a single State any form may be
united to any other and even to all the others. In
Germany, for instance, there is hardly any form of
State which is not expressly and distinctively included
in the constitution. The conditions therefore required
classification would seem not to be fulfilled in the
557
558 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
present case, viz. a comparatively small number of
original and fixed forms, distinct from each other, each
not derived from the other, and each exclusive of the
other, just as the main types of plants and animals
are distinct and exclusive.
In spite of these difficulties, however, we believe that
a satisfactory classification of States is not impossible,
that given a suitable basis it is possible to enumerate
a priori a definite set of forms, which will not only prove
in the abstract exhaustive, but will also be found to
include all forms of State empirically known to us — the
transitional as well as the more defined and prominent
type?, the most complex as well as the most simple.
But the question now arises — on what basis shall we
proceed in our division ? Evidently the fundamental
basis is one only. Since government is the first essential
in any State, States will naturally be classified, in the
first instance, on the basis of the form of government
employed. The present problem, therefore, of State-classi-
fication reduces to, and is identical with, the problem
of the classification of the forms of governmenl ; and it
is with this problem that we shall occup}' ourselves in
the first section of the present chapter. We shall have
to enquire what are the leading forms of government
and on what basis these forms are classified. This
problem of the chief forms of government being once
determined, it will then be open to us to consider other
less fundamental systems of classification which we
hope will prove of some interest to students of modern
politics.
In our classification of the various forms of govern-
ment we are naturally led to follow the time-honoured
division given in the Politics of Aristotle. " Govern-
ment," says Aristotle,* " which is the supreme authority
in States, must be in the hands of one or of a few or of
many. The true forms of government, therefore, are
those in which the one, the few, or the many govern.'*
♦ " Politics," III. 7.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 559
To these three forms of government he gives the names
kingship or royalty, aristocracy, and polity, or what a
modern would speak of as democracy. In all these
forms it is supposed that the ruler governs in the interest
not of himself but of the community at large, for which
reason they are spoken of as good or right {opdaX) forms.
Corresponding to them Aristotle distinguishes three bad
or perverted forms {TrapeKlidara^) in which the ruler
is represented as governing in his own interest and not
Lin the interest of the community at large, viz. tyrannj',
t'oligarchy, and ochlocracy * or mob-rule. Of the per-
verted forms it will not be necessary to say more at
present, but it will be necessary to speak at some length
of Aristotle's well-known division of the forms of govera-
ment into monarchy, aristocracy and democracy.
Basis of the classification.
The old problem whether Aristotle's classification of
[the forms of government is based on quantity or on
quality is interesting and not without its importance in
[Political Science. The form in which the problem is
^usually put is not a little misleading, for it would seem
ito imply that only one of the two conceptions, quantity
or quality, can be made the basis of division. As we
|«hall see presentl}', however, both conceptions are
utilised by Aristotle in effecting his classification.
The first step in the present division of the forms of
government is based on quantity alone. Government,
Aristotle tells us, must necessarily take one of three
forms, government hy one, by the few, or b}^ the many.
But these forms are capable of further division f upon
another basis, viz. quality. For government by the
few may consist of government by the few rich and
I* The word used here by Aristotle is " democracy." But as this
word has now been substituted for Aristotle's term, " polity," we use
the expression ochlocracy to signify the third perversion,
t The old rule of Logic forbidding changes m the basis of classifica-
tion applies only to each step in the division. Each step should be
based upon one conception.
56o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
powerful or the few poor ; and government by the many
may be by the many rich or the many poor. Now
government by the few poor is quite impracticable,
fcince fewness and poverty are no recommendation in
any ruling class.* And government by the many rich
is impossible, for never has it been heard of (except,
says Aristotle, f after the battle of Colophon) that the
many have been rich. We are then left with three
possible and practicable forms of government, govern-
ment by one (or monarchy), by the tew rich (or aris-
tocracy) and by the many poor (democracy).
We have now to bring under the reader's notice
certain important matters in connection with this
division. First, the grounds to which rulers may logically
make appeal as entitling them to rule will be found,
according to Aristotle, to depend on some of the con-
ceptions underlying the second division, not the first,
quality not quantit}'. The monarch does not govern
simply because he is one, but because he is the one
wise or great man of the community. | An aristocracy
does not govern because it is small, but because it is
rich or powerful, or wise, and because, says Aristotle, ||
" they have a greater share in the land, and land is the
common element of the State ; also they are generally
more trustworthy in contracts." If mere fewness formed
the requisite title and constituted an aristocracy or
oligarchy, then " a government § in which the offices
were given according to stature, as is said to be the case
in Ethiopia, or according to beauty, would be an oligarchy,
for the number of tall or good-looking men is small."
* a fortiori government by one who is also poor or weak would be
impossible. It is important to note that the quality to which Aristotle
gives such prominence here is only meant to serve as one example — a
chief example — of the qualities required in a ruler. Wisdom and virtue
will also count as well as riches.
t " Politics," IV. 4, 3,
X For this reason Aristotle expressly states that the rule of the
one belonged to a period when communities were small, and wise men
■were scarce (Hi. 13, 11).
II IH. 13, 2
§IV. 3, 4-
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 561
And the many in a democracy do not govern simply
because they are many, but because, " when taken
. together collectively and compared with the few, they
are stronger and richer and better." * But since this
necessary superiority in the multitude presupposes the
equality of all (for if men were not equal the few might
have the advantage, the few clever, for instance, being
equal to the many stupid), and particularly equality in
merits and goodness and rights, the claim of the many
to rule is, therefore, based upon the principle of the
equality of all. The right to rule in any particular form
of government is, therefore, based, not on number,
t which is " but an accident," f (if aristocracy, he tells
us, is always the rule of the few it is simply because
j the rich happen to be few) but on some one or some
t^roup of the many qualities which are supposed to
lid the ruler in his work and copfer on him a right of
government.
Secondly, if Aristotle does not in this opening division
enumerate the mixed forms, it is not because he was
unaware of the possibility of such forms (they are freely
mentioned later in his work) but because for purposes
of classification it was not necessary to take account of
them ; on the contrary, to take account of them would
be to complicate the problem and increase the difficulty
of classification exceedingly. Various modifications of
government are possible, due to the mingling of these
forms in varying degrees, but the three forms given by
Aristotle still remain the original simple types, out of
which all others are constructed, just as different plants
"may still remain essential types, though several of them
may happen to be grafted on a single stem.
Thirdly, Aristotle's classification considers govern-
ments in actual existence {in facto esse), not in their
4)ecoming {in fieri). It is for this reason that no account
taken in his classification of the manner in which the
*iii. 13, 4.
t III. 8, 6.
VOL. II — 36
562 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
monarch comes to the throne, e.g. of the distinction
between hereditary and elected monarchies, of which
distinction he nevertheless makes formal mention else-
where.* He has but one problem to consider in this
work of classification, viz. the problem of the forms under
which States are actually governed. For this reason
also his classification takes no account of the length of
the ruler's tenure of office, or the degree of jurisdiction
possessed. All this is beside the mark.f Elsewhere
he tells us that a monarch may be absolute, governing
according to his own will, or constitutional, in the
sense of governing according to fixed and permanent
laws. I But none of these differences affect the problem
of the classification of the forms of government, and,
therefore, they are not admitted as considerations in
the main problem.
"We mention these ::";hings for two principal reasons.
First, they show the exact bearing of the problem which
Aristotle set himself to solve ; secondly, the considera-
tions just set forth will enable us to answer many of
the criticisms levelled at Aristotle's classification, based
chiefly on the apparent inadequacy of his division, as
failing to include certain distinctive and admitted forms.
Aristotle's division is not inadequate. Our modern
governments consist simply of the forms given in the
* in. 14. 5.
t Aristotle was wise in ignoring these innumerable minor questions
of heredity, election, the period of tenure, etc. Even now the terms
in common use, based on such conceptions, are exceedingly ill-defined.
For Aristotle, monarchy was a very simple conception ; it meant the
rule of one, and under that conception would be included president-
ships, kingships, and ;ill other forms and titles by which the chief
ruler is at present designated. But how ill-dcfincd arc our modern
conceptions in comparison with his ! What, for instance, docs modern
society mean by a " king " ? Is a king an hereditary monarch ? If
80, the king of the Poles being elective was not a king ; neither is
the " king of Siam," who is appointed by his predecessor in oflice, a
king. And what is a President ? If a transitory rule is a chief
characteristic, then tlic President of the Chinese Republic was not a
President, since Juan-Shi-Kai, whilst still Presid'cnt, carried legislation
securing him as President of the Chinese Republic for life, and also
enabling him to appoint his successor.
J III I.,, 3.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 563
ancient classification but blended in varying degrees,
and realised in certain special circumstances in each
State. The rule of one occurs in the case of all presi-
dencies and monarchies, with their varying prerogatives
and powers ; the rule of the few — the rich, or mighty, or
wise, or learned — is operative in most of our Upper
Legislative Houses, in some of which one or other of
the qualities of aristocratic rule receive recognition, in
others, quite different qualities. In the Italian Senate,
for instance, some of the members are appointed for
their learning or their philanthropy or other kinds of
merit, whereas in England, to say the least of it, these
constitute no formal title of admission to the Second
Chamber. Finally, the rule of the many (not excluding
of course the rule of all) will be found realised in all
direct democracies, in the representatives of the people
in every First Chamber, as well as in the direct power
sometimes conferred on the people themselves in
regard to altering the constitution.*
UNITARY AND FEDERAL STATES
States are divided primarily and fundamentally ac-
cording to the form of government which they severally
employ. Every State is constituted of either a monarchy,
an aristocracy, or a democracy, or of some combination
of the three. But this fundamental division being
made, and each State being provided with one or other
of the constitutions mentioned, it is possible to dis-
cover other divisions also, based on considerations less
fundamental, though not less interesting and important,
than that just given, the chief of these being the relation
of the parts to the whole, or the degree of independence
accorded to the parts in reference to the whole.
States have been divided on this basis by modern
writers into unitary and federal States. In the former
there is only one central sovereign government, one
* e.g. in America.
564 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
legislature and one executive, supreme over all the rest
of the community. Examples of this form are France,
England, Italy, Russia. In all these there is only one
central sovereign power, exercising the fullness of legis-
lative and. executive authority, and controlling all the
public affairs of the nation. In England king, lords, and
commons are supreme over all. In France parliament,
president, and national assembly * are supreme. In
neither country are there any competing sovereign or
independent parliaments each with its own sphere of
legislative avithority, or competing executives each with
its own sphere of administration. In each there is
only one supreme legislative body, and one suprejne
executive, to whom is given the fullness of sovereign
power extending to all affairs of State and to all the
subjects of the State. In France and England, indeed,
a system of local government obtains, but the various
local bodies are all subject to the central sovereign
body. In the British Empire there are parliaments
other than that at London ; for instance, there are the
parliaments of Canada and Australia ; but these are
completely subject to the central parliament. This,
then, is the essential characteristic of the unitary State
that it is governed by one central authority, one person,
body, or group of bodies, exercising between them /lill
sovereignty over the whole people and over every sphere
of public affairs.
A federal State may be defined as a single completely
sovereign State, of which the parts also are States in
an incomplete sense, enjoying partial sovereignty. The
parts of a federal State are States because they have
their own parliaments, executives, and judicatures
possessed of sovereign powers {i.e. original powers not
derived from the central or federal parliament) in regard
* This is a special constitutional body, distinct even from parlia-
ment ; whilst parliament consists of the two Houses actinjj separately,
the National Assembly consists of the two Houses sitting and acting
together. The latter has two functions — the election of the president
and the changing of the constitution.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 565
to certain matters ; but they are States in an incomplete
sense only, because their sovereignty does not extend
to every department and relation of State, but to some
only, generally the internal affairs of the State. In
America, for instance, there is only one completely
sovereign State — the United States. There is a central
parliament and executive with original jurisdiction (ex-
tending to all the people) over certain matters, e.g.
foreign policy, war, post-office, duties, etc. Then there
are the State parliaments and executives with original
sovereign jurisdiction over all or practically all internal
affairs. Their authority, unlike the parliaments of
Australia or Canada, is equal to that of the central
body, is not derived from the central authority, but
is given to them originally in the constitution, just likej
the authority of the federal parliament and government.
Between them these several political corporations, the
State parliaments and governments and the federal
parliament and government, constitute not several
States but one, for it is only between them * that
sovereignty is completely exercised, and that the
necessary machinery is finally provided for controlling
the whole people in all the departments of the public
life. Other prominent examples of the Federal State are
found in the German Empire and the Swiss Republic.
Confederations and alliances.
The federal State (Bundesstaat) requires to be carefuUy
distinguished from what is known as a " confederation of
States "or " confederation " simply (Staatenbund), as
this latter must also be distinguished from the mere
" alliance."
A confederation is a union, effected hy public law, of many
completely sovereign States in a single corporate whole, the
component States in the confederation retaining each its
sovereign authority, complete and unimpaired, and the
whole confederation being represented by some public organ
* And, with them, the people entrusted with the sacred duty of
i changing the constitution — a duty, however, in the discharge of
which the several governments also have a share.
k
566 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
or institution bringing the confederation into public relation
with the parts and with the rest of the political world.
Examples of such confederations are the Swiss Confederation
of 1815-1848 and the Germanic Confederation of 1815-
t866. In both cases the component States maintained their
complete sovereignty. The confederation as such exercised
none of the powers proper of a State. The Diet, which was
the organ representing the confederation, was a Congress of
delegates only (from the component States) not a Legis-
lative Assembly.* It, therefore, did not and could not
exercise any of the ordinary functions of sovereignty, and
any functions that it m.ight perform were simply delegated
to it by the component States. Each State was, therefore,
fully sovereign. No doubt, in the Germanic confederation,
the component States agreed not to make war separately on
other nations. But such an agreement constituted no
dimmution of the native sovereignty of those States, any
more than a similar agreement made between any two
modern completely sovereign powers. The three charac-
teristics, therefore, of the confederation were : first, a
plurality of completely sovereign States, each part of the
confederation remaining completely sovereign ; secondly, the
fact that the confederation was of public law, and capable
of entering into public political relations with other States ;
and thirdly, the confederation was provided with an organ
(in each of the cases cited — a Diet) wherewith to express
itself and whereby it was brought into juridical relations
with the component States as well as with all the other
sovereign powers.
The distinction between a confederation of States (Staaten-
bund) and an alliance will now be readily understood. An
alliance is a union of completely sovereign States, effected,
not by public law, but by private agreement, in which no
public organ is provided for representing the union, and
which, being dependent on private agreement only, and
being unrepresented by any special organ, is incapable of
entering into public political relations of any kind with other
States. A well-known instance is the Triple Alliance
(recently f repudiated by one of the parties) of Germany,
Austria, Italy. J
• Morse Stephens, " Revolutionary Europe," p. 345.
t May, 191 5.
X For completeness' sake we shall briefly define certain other
analogous terms much used in works on international law. An
incorporate union of States occurs when the component parts arc so
abworbed as to lose all sovereignty, whether over internal or external
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 567
Constitutions
The form of the State is determined by its constitu-
tion. It will be necessary, therefore, to give the reader
some general idea of the nature of a constitution and
its various kinds.
Definition.
Aristotle gives the following simple definition :* a
constitution is " the organisation of the supreme power
in a State, determining how it is to be divided, what is
to be the governing body, and what the (function or)
end of the community " ; or again, " a constitution is
the arrangement of magistracies in a State, particularly
the highest of all." j From these we may deduce the
following working definition of a constitution — it is that
body of fundamental laws J which determines the form
affairs — the component parts being simply taken out of international
law, e.^. the union of Scotland and of Ireland with Great Britain.
These incorporate unions are simple unitary States. A personal union,
which, as Westlake (" International I^w," I. 32) observes, presents
only the semblance of a union, occurs when the same monarch happens
to preside over two completely distinct States, e.g. the union of England
and Hanover from 17 14 to 1837. A real union occurs when the
sovereign governments of two distinct States though remaining
distinct in other relations, amalgamate at least for the conduct of
foreign relations, and in this sphere are subject to a common
government. Such is the union of Austria and Hungary. It is not
always easy to distinguish a real union from a federal State. There is,
however, this distinction between the federal State of America and
the Austro-Hungarian Empire, that whereas in America the govern-
ments of the parts do not amalgamate to conduct foreign affairs
(these governments have simply nothing to do with foreign affairs) in
Austro-Hungary the two governments send representatives (the
delegations) to constitute a separate and independent legislature, to
which is attached the foreign ministry.
* " Politics," IV. I, 10, iroXirela fi^v yap icTi ri^i^ raU irdXariv rj
TT€pl raj apx'^-^t riva rpdnov vev^firjvTai, Kai rl t6 Ki''piov rrjt xoXirefaj Kai rl
TO r^Xos iKaffTOis rrj^ Koivuvias icrrlv.
t III. 6.
+ In " Politics," IV. i, lo. Aristotle distinguishes between the
institution and the laws ; but by the latter term is meant " ordinary
iw " as opposed to " constitutional law." The constitution de-
srmines what the State is to be, i.e. what its structure is, and who is
^o have or to share the sovereign power ; ordinary laws determine
fhat the subjects are to do. The second set of laws presupposes the
St.
568 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
and structure of the State, the distribution of the
sovereign authority within it, the bearer or bearers in
general terms of that authorit}^ and the end to which
the State is to be directed. Thus a constitution is
supposed to determine (in general — not in particular)
the supreme head of the legislative department, of the
executive, and of the judiciary (whether, e.g. the executive
will be under a monarch or a president) ; also the re-
lations between the three, and the several powers of
each. Most constitutions also give some idea of the
general end aimed at by the State, e.g. " the Confedera-
tion (of Switzlerand) has as its end to secure the inde-
pendence of the fatherland against outside aggression,
to maintain tranquillity and order within, to protect
the liberties and rights of the confederates and to pro-
mote their common prosperity." In general it may be
said that the Constitution determines the structure of
the State and the chief end at which it aims. Some-
times, no doubt, laws find their way into the constitu-
tion that have nothing whatsoever to do with the
structure or the chief end of the State, e.g. the shameless
article 25 ^ of the Swiss Constitution forbidding the
killing of animals by bleeding. Such laws as these
have no right to a place in the constitution ; they are
ordinary, not constitutional laws, and their insertion in
the constitution is due, as a rule, to some circumstance
or exigency of party strife.
The various kinds of constitution.
Constitutions are divided into (i) written and un-
written ; (2) flexible and rigid constitutions.
(i) A written constitution is a formal written instru-
ment in which the structure of the State, its end, and
the distribution of the sovereign power are expressly and
completely described, e.g. the constitution of America,
Switzerland, Germany. We say " expressly and com-
pletely," because even where there is no written con-
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 569
stitution, as in England, some of the constitutional
laws are written, that is, in the Statute Book, e.g. the
law destroying the absolute veto of the House of Lords
in England. But in England there is no formal instru-
ment purporting to set out in express and complete form
the fundamental laws of the constitution ; on the con-
trary, the most important of these laws are altogether
unwritten, and exist only as living principles of the con-
stitution, being presupposed in every relation and act
of the State. An unwritten constitution, then, is one
which depends on no formal written instrument pur-
porting to determine in complete form the structure
and end of the State.
(2) A flexible constitution is one which can be changed
by the ordinary legislative organ, i.e. that organ which
is charged with the introduction and repealing of
ordinary laws ; for instance, the constitution of England
is flexible, since it can be changed by king and parlia-
ment, like any ordinary law. A rigid constitution is
one that cannot be changed by the ordinary legislative
organ, i.e. the body charged with the enacting of ordinary
laws, but only b}'- some special legislative organ de-
termined by the constitution itself. The constitution
of the United States is rigid ; it is changed not by Con-
gress and President, to whom the constitution entrusts
the enacting of ordinary laws, but by the people in
convention or the State legislatures,* neither of w^hich
have any control over ordinary federal legislation.
The reason why, in most countries, power to alter the
constitution is withheld from the ordinary legislative
body is two-fold, first, in order to emphasise the very
special character, the sacredness, of constitutional as
compared with ordinary laws, and second, in order to
)lace difficulties in the way of the too easy alteration of
the former. Special difficulties are no doubt raised and
Special precautions taken in nearly every class of con-
* The detailed requirements are described in the American con-
titution, Art. V,
570 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
stitution, even flexible ones, in the case of proposed
■changes in the constitution. For instance, in Belgium,
Holland and Greece it is provided that after a change
in the constitution has been proposed, and before the
measure is finally passed, a dissolution of Parliament
must occur.* In Germany any fourteen members of
the Bundesrat or Upper House can veto a proposed
change in the constitution.! But these difficulties do
not of themselves render the constitution rigid in the
technical sense of the term. A constitution is rigid only
where a special constitutional body is given power over
the constitution, and thus a constitution may be flexible
even though, as a matter of fact, in some cases the
difficulties placed in the way of alterations may be more
■eflective than the obstacles provided for the rigid con-
stitutions. Thus, for instance, the French constitution
is rigid because it can be changed, not b}^ parliament,
which consists of the two Houses acting separately,
but by a body specially provided for in the constitution,
viz. the National A iLembly, consisting of the two Houses
acting in joint session. J Yet it can hardly be said that
the difficulties raised by this provision are exceptionally
great.
The Simple Forms of Government Separately
Considered
monarchy
Aristotle distinguishes between an absolute and a
limited monarchy. An absolute or despotic monarchy is
one in which all the powers of government are placed
unreservedly in the hands of one individual. Such a
monarchy may be hereditary or elective, permanent or
* Also in Holland a two-thirds majority of the new parliament
in favour of the measure is required.
t Since Prussia has more than this number of representatives in
the liundcsrat it practically has a veto on all such measures.
J This Ixnly is also given another important function, viz. the
■election of the President.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 571
temporary, A limited monarchy is one in which only
a limited amount of power is placed in the hands of the
ruling monarch. His powers may be limited in either
of two ways, either by reserving certain powers in other
hands than that of the monarch, such as the power of
life and death, or by enacting certain laws under which
the rule of the monarch is to be exercised. In both
cases it is supposed that a power of law-making rests
with the people ; for which reason we may regard the
second kind of monarchy, i.e. limited monarchy, as
equivalent to what we now speak of as a constitutional
monarchy,* the difference being that whereas in Aristotle's
conception, that of the limited monarchy, it is the limita-
tions set to the power of the monarch which are chiefly
emphasised, our modern conception of constitutional
monarchy emphasises rather the right of the people to
a share in the sovereign power either directly or through
their representatives. Limited monarchy is thus, in
strictness, a mixed form, and not one of the simple
original forms of government, so that it will not be
necessary to take account of it in our present computa-
tion of the merits and demerits of the three simple forms,
which we now go on to compare.
In all three forms there are excellences and defects
which it will be necessary to set forth, however briefly,
here, since it is principally through a computation of
these excellences and defects that the problem of the
best practical form of State is to be solved.
The excellences which characterise the system of
absolute monarchy are obvious ; unity of government,
decisiveness, disinterestedness (for though an absolute
monarch may appropriate some of the wealth of the
country to enrich himself, still, as to the rest, which
will constitute by far the greater share, his judgment
and his decisions are likely to be fair and just), freedom
* According to Aristotle, limited or constitutional monarchy is
not to be regarded as a simple and original, but as a mixed form of
State. Royalty or kingship proper, therefore, means absolute kingship.
572 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
to vary administration in accordance with the require-
ments of circumstances (fixed laws being a check on
freedom and preventing one from governing as the
circumstances require). These, as we said, are obvious
advantages. But they are all quite theoretical in
character, and rest on assumptions that hardly corre-
spond with the facts or the probabilities of life. In a
despotic monarchy imity and decision may be wanting
just as in the purest democracy, since the judgments of
a despotic monarch ma^'' be as vacillating as those of
the crowd and more changeable than those of a small
aristocracy. He may even rule in the interest of a
particular class just as an aristocracy or a democracy
may. Above all things the system of despotic monarchy
is opposed to freedom, in the sense of the power of self-
government, and it offers no guarantee that govern-
ment will really be in the interest of the whole people,
since a single individual can hardly be a competent
judge of what the various sections of the people require.
We should like, however, to make some reference here
to one excellence in the system of despotic monarchy
which seems to have been forgotten by many advocates
of democratic rule, in spite of the fact that it was largely
through this particular excellence that the beginnings
of that great progressive movement, which ended in
the triumph of democracy over the other two systems,
were rendered possible. We refer to the necessity of
absolute monarchy for breaking down the power of the
nobles, whose hold upon government formed the chief
instrument whereby the masses continued to be enslaved
in the mediaeval period. It was the absolute monarch
that helped very largely to break the power of the feudal
lords in the mediaeval period. In Russia the people
on one occasion insisted on the concession of absolute
power to a single individual, the Czarina Anne, as a
means for breaking the power of the nobles. It was
also in some such capacity as this that the T3'ranni8
first apjx'ared amongst the nncicnt (irooks. " According
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 573
to Aristotle," writes Sidgwick,* " and historians generally,
the appearance of Tyrannis is to be regarded as the first
form of the democratic movement against the ruling
nobles ; the earlier Tyrannis is developed out of the
demagogue, his power is founded on the need felt by
the people — as yet unripe for real democracy — of a
leader and protector against her traditional oppressors."
Also, " in the leading case of France, the process may
be gradually traced through various interruptions and
vicissitudes from the accession of the House of Capet
to an almost nominal throne, on to the famous moment
when Louis XIV is represented as uttering the L'Etat
c'est moi ; and historians all recognise the value to the
monarchy of the support of the tiers etat by which
Denmark, in a.d. 1660, passed suddenly to absolute
monarchy from a form of government which was very
near to oligarch}^ The alliance of king and commons
against the governing nobles is as palpable and con-
spicuous as it is at the beginning of any of the Greek
tyrannies." An absolute monarchy, therefore, is not
without its excellences. It was often necessary in
ancient times, where what was chiefly required in govern-
ment were the two qualities oi unity and firmness, the
populace not being sufiiciently developed or organised
to give promise of either. It was also necessary both
then and at a later period as the bulwark of the popular
liberties against encroachment on the part of the nobles.
But a comparison of the defects and excellences we
have mentioned will show that the rule of the absolute
monarch is out of place in the modern State, except in
abnormal circumstances, f or under conditions approach-
ing those usually obtaining in the case of undeveloped
communities.
* " Development of European Polity," p. 188.
t e.g. on occasion of war. In America in war-time the President
becomes practically a dictator.
574 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
ARISTOCRACY
The advantages of aristocracy when examined from
the point of view of theory alone are also obvious. As
compared with absolute kingship, aristocracy represents
the rule of a number of men as opposed to one man, and
it is to be expected that the combined wisdom of a
number of men acting in concert will be greater than that
of a single individual. As compared with democrac}^
aristocracy represents the rule of enlightenment over
unenlightenment, the firm judgment of a compact and
energetic group of competent men over the distraction
and incompetence of a disorganised crowd, administra-
tion by a group of men with a stake in the land, and with
important interests to protect, over administration by
irresponsibles who have nothing to lose or to jeopardise
by their mistakes, and nothing, therefore, to render
them cautious where caution is needed, or venturesome
where daring is required.
But all these excellences are more than outbalanced
by the corresponding defects. Like absolute kingship,
a pure aristocracy withholds from the people all the
delights of freedom in its highest sense, i.e. self-govern-
ment. Also government by the few only is bound to
deteriorate into government in the interest of the few or in
the interest of one particular class in the State. Indeed,
in the light of this particular danger, aristocracy is to be
regarded as far inferior to the system of absolute king-
ship. It is quite inconceivable that an absolute monarch
could for very long administer the country in his own
interest alone ; but government by an aristocracy in
the interest of their own class is easily conceivable.
What is more, a sovereign aristocracy is, as a rule, an
absolute aristocracy in the sense that the laws themselves
have very little sacredncss in their eyes, their own
interest being paramount, and, therefore, they will flout
and ignore laws, even of their own making, when circnm-
atances turn these laws to their disfavour. Our argument
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 575
assumes, of course, that an untramelled aristocracy
tends naturally to degenerate into an oligarchy ruling
in its own interest alone ; but this assumption we have
no difficulty in making. A sovereign aristocracy has
both the temptation and the opportunity to rule in its
own interest chie%, much more so than an absolute
monarch, and temptation and opportunity are a com-
bination not easily resisted by ordinary mortals.*
But though all this is true of aristocracy, pure and
simple, an aristocracy may most usefully be entrusted
with a portion of the sovereign power in a State for the
most part democratic in character, and in this capacity
may be made to supply the element of permanence
and stability so evidently wanting in the purely demo-
cratic State,
DEMOCRACY
Democracy is of two kinds, direct and indirect. In a
direct democracy the people are the bearers of sovereign
power, which power they themselves immediately exer-
cise at least in the domain of legislation. In an indirect
democracy the sovereign power is exercised through
representatives chosen by the people. Direct democracy
was the form of government that obtained in ancient
times at Athens f and that still obtains among some of
the smaller cantons of Switzerland. Indirect democracy
is exemplified in countries like America and France.;]:
* See Aristotle's powerful criticism of the evils of a pure aristocracy.
" Politics," IV. II, 5.
■f See the interesting description given in the " Achamians " ol
the Athenian Assembly. In his " Growth of the English Con-
i stitution," Prof. Freeman gives a fascinating account of some of the
popular Assemblies of Switzerland.
X It is necessary to point out that in an indirect democracy the
representatives of the people are not mere delegates. A delegate
acts not from himself but as the instrument ol another. He has no
personal discretion, and for validity his acts must accord with the
intention of his principal. Parliamentary representatives, on the
other hand, can pass valid laws even though they are not approved
I the people. As an example ol legislators who are delegates merely,
may quote the members of the Upper House in Germany. These
576 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
It will not be necessary to consider the merits and
demerits of direct democracy — a form of government
which is obviously suitable only for very small States
and for social and industrial conditions of a very simple
type. It would be wholly unworkable in a country
of such a population and of such a complex system as
France or England, or even Switzerland taken as a
whole.
But though the whole function of legislation could
not in any modern State be allowed to devolve directly
on the people, nevertheless a part of that function may
often usefully be entrusted to the people, particularly
such part of it as does not call for constant exercise,
and is of sufficient importance to awaken the popular
interest when the need for exercising it does occur. As
a rule, it is in connection with proposed changes in the
constitution that the people are given this right of
direct legislation, since such questions only rarely come
up for discussion : but when they do occur their im-
portance is at once recognised and appreciated by all.
In America, for instance, a change in the federal con-
stitution is enacted either by the consent of the legis-
latures in three-fourths of the States, or by conventions
of the people in three- fourths of the States.* The people
are thus given a good deal of direct power over the con-
stitution.
SWITZERLAND — THE REFERENDUM AND INITIATIVE
In the Federation of Switzerland tlic direct legislative
powers of the people are very wide. Let us first speak of
constitutional laws. Any proposed change in the con-
• There arc two methods for proposing such changes. The federal
Congress may itself by a two-thirds vote in each House prepare and
propose amendments ; or the legislatures of two-thirds of the States
may call on Congress to summon a constitutive convention of all
the people, which convention will then draft and submit amendments.
It is Congress that decides the mode of election and constitution of
this convention, and it is Congress that decides whether a proposed
amendment will be submitted for final enactment to conventions in
the various States, or to the legislatures of the States.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 577
stitution has to be submitted to the people by referendum,
and unless accepted, not only by a majority of the people
taken as a whole, but also by a majority of the cantons,
it cannot become law. In other words, in Switzerland the
referendum in regard to proposed changes in the constitu-
tion is obligatory, not optional. But the people of Switzer-
land also enjoy another power in regard to legislation dealing
with the constitution. Not only must all measures in matters
regarding the constitution be referred to them for their
acceptance before such measures can pass into law, but the
people enjoy also a right of initiative in regard to these
measures. Any 50,000 voters in Switzerland could demand
a totally new constitution, i.e. they could call on Parliament
to ask the people of Switzerland whether a new constitution
is required, and if the people answer " yes " a new con-
stitution would have to be drawn up in Parliament * and
submitted to the people. Or if there is question of only a
partial change in the constitution any 50,000 voters might
themselves, if they cared to do so, draw up a measure in
its final form embodying the proposed change, and Parlia-
ment would have to submit this measure to the people.j
Then, secondly, the people have power in regard to
ordinary laws, their right of referendum + extending not
only to constitutional but to ordinary laws as well. But
whereas the referendum is obligatory in regard to all pro-
posed changes in the constitution, so that no change can
be made until the proposed change is submitted to and
accepted by the people, it is optional in regard to ordinary
legislation. Parliament in Switzerland may pass an ordinary
measure, just as in other countries, without appeal to the
people. Nevertheless, if the people so desire, they can insist
on any law passed in Parliament being submitted to them
for ratification before it becomes operative, § and if it fails
to meet with their approval, the law, even though passed
in Parliament, falls to the ground. The request to have an
* After a special general election.
t They might, however, content themselves with proposing a
change in general terms, and Parliament, having found that a majority
of the people favoured the change, would then proceed to draw up a
definite measure, which measure would finally be submitted to the
people.
} Strange to say, the people have no right of initiative in regard
to ordinary federal legislation. One would have thought that the
constitution, much more than ordinary legislation, required to be pro-
tected from the fickleness and passion of the multitude in Switzerland
just as in other places.
] i.e. 90 days after it is passed.
VOL. 11—37
578 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
ordinary law submitted to the people can be made either
by eight cantons or by any 30,000 voters.*
It is this right of referendum in regard to ordinary legisla-
tion that is the most distinctive mark of the Swiss system.
The question arises whether the referendum is reaUy
a valuable adjunct to the political machinery of any
normal country ? In favour of the referendum it is
argued by Mr. Dicey {ForUiightly Review, 1910) that
" the referendum makes it possible in a way which is
now impossible in England to get on any matter of
real importance, a clear and distinct expression of the
will of the nation." At an election a multitude of
opposing issues are put before the people, and it is
impossible to tell on which, if any, the nation has re-
turned a particular party to power. Again, it is argued
that the referendum affords the only hope of any real
check ever being placed to the growth of the party system.
On the other side it is pointed out by Maine (" Popular
Government ") that a referendum would stop a great
deal of useful legislation, since most people would find
it easier to discover something unfavourable in a measure
than something favourable. If it depended on the
people, for instance, machinery would never have been
introduced into England and allowed to supplant ordinary
labour as it has done. Appeal is also made to the in-
ability of the people to understand the technicalities of a
measure submitted to it, and particularly its detailed
bearings ; also to their apathy in regard to most measures.
as witness the smallness of the vote recorded in many
of the cantons in Switzerland on measures submitted for
their approval, in comparison with the large vote cast
for the elections.! Finally, it is claimed, that referendum
• But an ordinary law when submitted requires only to meet with
the approval of the majority of the whole Swiss people; a constitu-
tional law, on the other hand, must commend itself to a majority both
of the people and of the cantons.
t Sec Lowell, " Government and Parties in Continental Europe,'*
II 2()I.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 579
lowers the sense of responsibility of the people's repre-
sentatives. Representatives will often in Switzerland
vote for a measure, hoping that it might later be
rejected by the people.
With these arguments available on either side, the
only conclusion possible is that, where the referendum
does not exist, it ought not to be introduced without a
continuous and imperative demand on the part of the
people. Where, however, the referendum has grown
up with the constitution and is not grossly misused it
ought to be continued.
Indirect democracy is now the accepted system in all
countries adopting the democratic form of government,
and it is not necessary to distinguish its merits and
defects. Besides, even the consideration of any one of
the questions suggested by this form of government,
e.g. the question of the extent of the franchise * or of
the rights of minorities to representation f would lead
us too far afield in a work like the present. But it is
obviously necessary to say something on the conception
of democratic government taken by itself, as opposed
to discussion on either of its two types.
Democracy versus the other forms.
Abstracting, then, from the distinction of direct and
indirect democracy, and confining our attention to the
rule of " the many " or of " all," as contrasted with the
rule of " the few " or of " one." we may here attempt
to sum up very briefly the advantages and disadvantages
of pure unmixed democracy {i.e. a democracy in which
the sovereign power lies wholly in the hands of the
* See John Stuart Mill's " Representative Government."
t The system devised for giving representation to minorities is
known as Proportional Representation. It has various forms. They
are fully described in J H. Humphrey's work on Proportional Repre-
sentation, and J. Meredith's work on the same subject.
58o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
people) over the other two systems of monarchy oi
aristocracy.*
The first obvious advantage is that, under the systerr
of pure democracy, the people are fully free. The wore
freedom is understood in two senses ; first, there is whal
John Oliver Hobbes describes as the " desolate freedom
of the wild ass," meaning the power to do what one
pleases, unrestrained by any requirements of law, oi
moral duty, or social obligation, or dictate of human
reason of any kind. Such freedom is valueless tc
creatures of reason, and scarcely even merits the
name of freedom ; for without law there can be
no guarantee of protection, and without a guarantee
of protection no man is his own master — his life,
his possessions, and his rights being open to in-
vasion at any moment. But freedom is understood
in another and better sense, the sense in which it
possesses a value for men, viz. the power and right
of self-government or self-control according to law
and reason, and it is in this sense that wc set a value
upon freedom in the present discussion. In a democracy
the people direct and govern themselves according to
laws which they themselves enact, and, therefore, in a
democracy the delights and blessings of freedom are
most fully felt. We do not, of course, maintain that
freedom is impossible under the other two systems ;
what we maintain is, as we have just explained, that
under the democratic system the people are fully free,
that not only are they guaranteed the exercise of their
rights but these rights are guaranteed according to
laws of their own making. Their right, therefore, is
the right of complete self-direction and self-control, and
self-direction is the chief element in freedom. f
On the other hand, however, it is to be admitted that
* These advantages and disadvantages it will not be ncccssaiy
to set out separately. The disadvantages are here given in the form
of modifications to the several arguments based on the advantages of
democracy.
t Ltberum, says St. Thomas, est causa xiii
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 581
the value of this right of self-control is itself largely
dependent on the value of the laws under which, and
according to which, one's liberty is exercised and directed ;
and, therefore, since, as we shall later prove, democracy,
though a necessary element of the best constitution, is
not itself the best, it follows that the laws of a pure
democracy are not likely to be the best, and that the
freedom afforded by democracy will itself be a maximum,
not under the system, of democracy pure and simple,
but under a mixed rule, in which the democracy, though
occupying an important and controlling position, is itself
modified and diluted by admixture with other systems.
A second obvious advantage lies in the fact that
government by all will probably be in the interest ot
all, just as government by one or the few tends to be
in the interest of one or the few, and, as we have already
seen, it is the interest of all that constitutes the chief
and proper object of government. But this argument
has to be modified by the admission that government
is never exercised in a democracy by all, but by a
majority, or by parties representing the majority, and
often it is not exercised in the interest of all but of the
majority only. Even, however, in this modified form,
our argument can be made to afford us valuable con-
clusions. One is that the interests of the people at
large, whether the people are divided into parties or
not, although not represented according to absolute
justice, will more properly be represented in a democracy
than in any other of the simple forms of government.
Also, though the system of majority rule may favour
at one time a certain section of the community only,
at another time it will favour another and opposing
section, and in this way some kind of rough justice will
in the end have been done to all the parties. It will
be said that the interests represented by the richer
classes cannot be properly defended in a pure de-
mocracy. We answer, first, that it is possible to ex-
aggerate the importance of these interests as opposed
582 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
to the interests of the people at large. The specia
interests of the rich consist for the most part of sucl
things as money, lands, commerce, industry : and the&(
bear no proportion to the interests of the people at large
which consist of the lives and liberties of the peopl(
themselves. We admit, however, that in a pure de
mocracy the interests of the rich may not receiv(
sufficient care, and for that, amongst other reasons
we are ourselves disposed to iavour a mixed rathe:
than a pure democracy. What, however, we are her(
considering are the relative merits of the simpler formi
of government, of pure democracy as opposed to govern
ment by the few or by one, and in that connection ou:
claim is that political justice is altogether on the sid(
of the first system as against the other two, and alsc
that in determining the degree of prominence tha
should be accorded to these different interests in th(
best State, to the populace should be given such j
degree of ultimate controlling-power as correspond i
with the greater interests represented by the peopl(
at large, as compared with the interests of the fev
" rich and noble."
A third advantage claimed for democracy consists ir
the fact that the public interest, which is the propei
object of government, is more likely to be understooc
by the whole community than by any section of it
and particularly by a privileged section like an aris
tocracy or a monarch. And this is true in great measure
but not wholly. For, in the first place, the vast majority
of the people are ignorant and uneducated, and inclinec
rather to judge of immediate and evident or superficial
consequences than of the more remote and more per-
manent effects.* Also they very easily become the
• See interesting argument in Aristotle (" Politics," IV. 13)
describing the devices whereby the oligarchies of old deceived
the people, for instance, fining only the rich for non-attendance at
the Assembly, so that the poor (foolishly regarding the law as con-
ferring a privilege on themselves) might stay away, leaving the bcttei
classes to dominate the Assembly,
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 583
victims of designing demagogues, interested for the
most part not in the peoples' welfare but in their own.
Balancing these two sets of considerations, the con-
elusion would seem to be that, though the populace are
l liable to many errors, they have nevertheless a strong
and very living consciousness at least of the greater
and broader interests and issues, and it is on a right
judgment as to the broader interests and issues that
successful government depends, rather than on a correct
estimate of effects in detail. The conclusion would
seem to be that at least the remote control of govern-
ment may safely be left to the people, such a control
as requires command of the broader issues, the detailed
work of government being left in the hands of others,
who yet should be in some degree responsible to the
people.
A fourth advantage claimed for democracy consists
in the immunity which democracy affords against
revolution, it being impossible that the people should
rebel against themselves or be dissatisfied with laws
of their own making. On the other hand, it is argued
that, even under a democracy', one faction may rebel
against another, and that a strong minority may success-
fully resist the majority, and that, so, a democratic
State is not immune from rebellion or continued dis-
satisfaction any more than an aristocracy or a monarchy.
We believe, however, that in these respects democracy
is at least comparatively immune from the danger of
rebellion. The various opposing issues having been
fought out at the polls, it is not likely that they
will again be combated for in the field. But whether
they may or may not, it is certain that, for stabilit}'
of government, confidence on the part of the people
is absolutely required, and that such confidence can be
secured in one way only, viz. by granting to the people
a large and overwhelming degree of control over their
own affairs.
584 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
THE BEST STATE
The two preceding paragraphs can leave no doubt in
the mind of the reader as to our view of the question
so keenly discussed by students of Politics from the
most ancient times — the question of the best State.
We suppose that, judged in the abstract and absolutely,
the most efficient rule of all would be that of a single in-
dividual,* perfect in knowledge, in interests, in capacity
for work, and fully equipped in everything that goes
to make up the special excellence of a good ruler. Under
such a rule integrity and unity of purpose would combine
with complete efficiency in the selecting of the means,
to produce the maximum of public prosperity and the
most enduring peace. But perfect men in this sense
do not exist in the ordinary human State^ and, therefore,
such a rule is not to be regarded as a practicable or
possible system of government for man as he really is.
But the problem of the best kind of government may
be raised in practical form in either of the two following
senses : first, taking the circumstances of each State
into account, what is the best form of government for
that State ? secondly, normally speaking and com-
paring one state with another, what is the form of
government that realises the essential ends of the State
in the fullest and highest way all round, or that is sub-
ject to the fewest and least important defects ? To
the first question no general answer can be given, except,
perhaps, the not very enlightening answer that the best
form is the form that works in each case, the form that
has proved itself both enduring and progressive, that
has grown under the influence of the special needs of
the people, and been gradually shaped to meet those
needs. In the first setting up of a State it would be
♦ Mill, in his work on Representative Government, maintains that
the system of Heprcsentative Covcrnment is more perfect tlian Rovern-
mcnt even by the most perfect human being, on account of the public
political sense developed under the former system. Government by
any individual, however perfect, must lead, he tells us, to " inactivity
and decay."
THE FORMS OF THE STATE
.■)0:>
very difficult to anticipate future possibilities, and to
declare that such and such a form is or is not suitable
to, or best for, this people's requirements. Indeed,
whatever form is finally set up, is sure to be found want-
ing and to require modification in many respects, even
by the admixture of other and opposed forms. Above
all things, it would be rash to attempt to judge of the
best form for a particular people by a consideration of
the special character of that people, it being no easy
thing to formulate the character of a whole people, and
their character being itself to a large extent a result of
the particular kind of government to which they have
been subject. Aristotle made the attempt to assign
the forms of government most suited to each kind of
character,* but his attempt can hardly be regarded as
helpful in any way to the framers of constitutions. To
the first of the two questions mentioned, therefore, it is
hardly possible to return any other answer than that
which we have given, viz. that, in particular circum-
stances, that form of government will be most suitable
which has been found to work, that is, which has proved
to be effective and enduring, and to a certain degree
progressive also, in those circumstances.
Our second question, however, admits of a completer
and more definite answer. Put briefly, the question is
this — of all the standard forms of government, which
is the form that seems to fulfil the functions of govern-
ment best, so that, under average circumstances, and
assuming that the character and history of the people favour
all forms equally, it could be predicted of it that it will
be most promising in good results ? That a strong
lemocratic element will be present in this best con-
ktitution is certain from what we have already said.
|t will be a democracy in at least the sense that the
^gislature will be appointed by the whole people, and
le control of finance will be in their hands. There will
jiso be an aristocratic element, in the sense that the
♦"Politics," III. 17, 4
586 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
educated and wealthy and virtuous * (the social virtues
being of more importance than the private in this con-
nection) will be represented, either by special constitu-
tional provision or by force of circumstances. Thus, even
in America, the aristocracy (in this case an aristocracy
of wealth and education) is practically assured full
representation, at least in the Upper House, not indeed
by the constitution itself, but by the special economic
circumstances of the country and by the manner in
which elections take place to the Upper House, f In
England the aristocracy has its privileges from the
constitution. But in every community there must be
some means devised of giving to the greater monied,
and other prominent, interests in the country a proper
degree of representation. Any constitution in which
the upper, and even more particularly the great iniddle
class, are made completely subject, being allowed no
share in the control of public affairs, the whole control
being placed in the hands of the masses, is doomed to
failure from the beginning. As participants in sovereignty,
the masses are an enduring source of strength and a
guarantee of progress ; as sole rulers the masses are
wanting in balance, in skill, in capacity for continuous
effort, in devotion to duty, in faith to others and even
to themselves. " If," sa3-s Maine, | " the mass of man-
kind were to make an attempt at re-dividing the common
stock of good things, they would resemble not a number
of claimants insisting on a fair division of the funds,
but a mutinous crew feasting on a ship's provisions,
* Aristotle remarks, IV. 8, 3, that these three are generally found
together. We would, however, make the reservation, " except where
an aristocracy is given full and complete sovereignty, the populace
being completely subject to them." In that case even the social
virtues may not be accompaniments of riches and power. Aristotle
adds (IV. 8, 9) that gentle birth is generally accompanied by wealth
and virtue, " good birth being only ancient wealth and virtue."
t This guarantee was until recently more reliable than it is at
present. Until recently, the State Legislatures appointed to the
Senate ; at present the people themselves appoint the representatives
in the Senate.
X " Popular Government," p. 45
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 587
gorging themselves on the meat and intoxicating them-
selves with the liquors, but refusing to navigate the
vessel to port." As subjects and as part-rulers it is
the splendid virtues of the masses that come most into
prominence ; as sole rulers their vices and shortcomings
become effective competitors with their virtues, to the
great detriment of the rest of the body politic and of
themselves. But as we have said, and on this point we
wish to lay most special emphasis, it is not to the masses
or to the higher aristocracy, but to what we might call
the lower aristocracy, the great middle classes, that we
must chiefly look for the greater ruling qualities — for
stability and sound judgment, for sensibility in the
domain of justice, for that exact balance of the two
ideals of conservatism and progress, which, from all
ages, are the chief acknowledged conditions of successful
rule. Aristotle's well-known commendation, " great is
the good fortune of a State in \\hich the (majority of
the) citizens have a moderate and sufficient property,"
is as true of peoples and polities now as in his own far-
distant age. It is through the great middle class (the
class intermediate between the very wealthy and the
poor), controlling as it does the chief departments of
politics, that America has proved itself a sound and
stable government, in spite of the facilities offered by
the constitution for rapid and revolutionary changes.
It is the great middle class in England that has success-
fully enabled England to survive all the disintegrating
movements of the last hundred years, for, whilst aiding
progress in every way, and identifying itself wdth the
poor in the execution of every reasonable purpose, it
has never hesitated to throw in its lot with the upper
classes as against popular clamour and unrest, where
revolution or insecurity seemed likely consequences of
the popular programme.
There remains the question of the monarchical ele-
ment. Should the State possess this element also, for
the realisation 01 the best results ? I^aturally, although
588 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a presidency might fulfil the technical requirements of
monarchy as defined by Aristotle, we shall in our present
enquiry confine our attention to one kind of monarchy
only, viz. hereditary monarch}-, this being the onlj^
kind that can be contrasted with the conception of
popular control. Our present enquir}^ therefore, re-
duces itself to a comparison of what are properly spoken
of as republics, like those of America and France, and
constitutional monarchies, like those of England, Ital}-,
and Belgium. But the sense of the question must not
be misunderstood. The question is not whether America
would be better off under a monarchical, or England
under a republican government, but which of the two,
the hereditary monarchy, or the elected temporary
presidenc3^ is the more suitable, general^ speaking, for
attaining the f roper end of government, namely, the true
and permanent good of the whole communit}^ and which
of them, in aiming at this end, is subject to the smaller
number of defects. Here we have no difficulty in placing
the balance of advantage with the hereditary monarchy.*
The ^hereditary monarchy may bring in its train certain
social evils which are absent in the presidency. With
these social evils we have here nothing to do. What
we do claim is that the constitutional monarchy is better
fitted as an instrument for attaining to the proper ends
of government than the presidential republic. And our
reasons are the following : —
(i) Under the hereditary monarchy there are no
breaks in government, such as occur on the occasion of
an election to the presidential chair, and it is those
breaks in government that are chiefly availed of by
revolutionaries and malcontents for spreading dis-
content and inciting the mob to rebellion against the
constitution.
(2) An hereditary monarchy otfcrs a better and surer
* Tliis, as we said, docs not mean that America would be belter
ofi under a kin^'sliip. Such a form of government might not suit the-
circumstances of America.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 589
guarantee of continuity of policy,* particularly in regard
to foreign affairs, than government under a president ;
and without a tolerable degree of continuity of policy
it is impossible for any State to enter into permanent
agreements with other States or to enjoy their confidence.
(3) The rule of the hereditary monarch is likely to be
more disinterested and impartial than that of the
president. The monarch is above all party interest.
By pursuing any particular course he can gain neither
in position nor in influence, since by his birth he has
all that is obtainable in the State. The monarch can,
therefore, act, as no other ruler can, unmoved by any
kind of current faction. Compare this mark of the
monarchy in England with the temptations inseparable
from the position of president in America. "In a
country," writes Bryce,f " where there is no hereditary
throne nor hereditary aristocracy an office raised far
above all other offices offers too great a stimulus to
ambition. This glittering prize always dangling before
the eyes of prominent statesmen has a power stronger
than any dignity under a European crown to allure
them (as it allured Clay and Webster) from the path of
straightforward consistency. One who aims at the
presidency, and all prominent politicians do aim at it,
has the strongest possible motives to avoid making
enemies. Now a great statesman ought to be prepared
to make enemies. It is one thing to try to be popular
— an unpopular man will never be influential — it is
another to seek popularity by courting every section of
3^our part3\ This is the temptation of presidential
aspirants." i
* We may be allowed to point out here that the guarantee of
Dontinuity in foreign policy given under the American system is far
"irom ideal. It consists in the fact that in America all treaties have to
je ratified by the Senate, and the Senate is a continuous body, only one
third retiring at a time, every two years.
t " American Commonwealth."
X In America the fact that the President is re-eligible (in practice)
inly once, operates unfavourably on the President. During his first
fcerm of office he will, in order to secure re-election, pander to all the
590 THE ^SCIENCE OF ETHICS
(4) It is only through the rule of one who is above all
party interest that the people can retain their hold on
legislation. The majority in every legislature has its
own proper interests and ambitions, interests often
distinct from those of the people whom it represents.
And, even where the two sets of interests are identical,
the representatives of the people may mistake the mind
of the people, or act without due consideration for their
opinions. In either case it is only one who is above all
party interest,* one who has nothing to gain or lose by
the incidents of politics, who can be trusted to delay
the proposed measure until the populace can have an
opportunity of pronouncing upon it. Constitutional
monarchy, therefore, is the best guarantee a people
can have of their continued effective control over parlia-
ment, and, in a country like England, over government
also. We may add also that in a constitutional monarchy
the permanent interests of the people are likely to receive
very special consideration over and above their passing
superficial interests. In regard to both, the people may
be mistaken, and where passion runs high the per-
manent interests are often little heeded. It is the
monarch, who will still be present, bearing the brunt of
office, when present deputies and ministers have passed
away, who has most reason for seeing that the per-
manent and substantial interests of the people shall
not be sacrificed to what is only of temporary and super-
ficial importance, and, therefore, it is to the hereditary
monarch that we may most confidently look for pro-
tection of the popular interests, not only against be-
trayal by the popular representatives, but against error
and impetuosity on the part of the people themselves.
(5) The monarch enjoys a personal influence in politics
not possible in the case of the president, a personal
active sections of his party, whilst during the second term he will
run no risks to his reputation, even for the sake of the public, seeing
that his own political death is assured and near.
• Presidents are always party men, being elected by party vote
and dependent for rc-clcction on the good-will of the stronger party.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 591
influence which is mainly based upon the monarch's
independence of parties and his superiority to party
intrigue. It is for this reason that the intervention of
the monarch in the various difficulties and impasses to
which States are subject is so often attended with
fortunate and far-reaching results. We may mention
three instances. First, in the case of inter-party dead-
lock, the king is always a welcome mediator, and for
the simple reason that he is above all party. Secondly,
in the case of inter-cameral deadlock (and in England
until recently such deadlock was possible as it is still
possible in most other countries) the point at issue i»
generally a point of party interest, and again it is the
king who will make the most successful mediator.
Thirdly, even where international difficulties arise, the
efforts of the monarch at reconciliation are more likely
to prove successful than the efforts of minister or cabinet »
not only on account of the prestige attaching to the
position of the monarch and his personal relationships
with other rulers, but also because he is supposed to be
less keen upon immediate advantages and triumphs
than cabinets are. In the relations of kings the human
element and, therefore, the element of generosity and
of compromise can always operate to some extent. As
between cabinets and chancellories the human element
simply does not exist. It is of cabinets and not so much
of kings that Hobbes' description of sovereigns is true —
that they are ever in a state of potential warfare, " their
weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another."*
For this reason it is kings rather than presidents that
can best exercise a modifying influence in the relations
of States to one another.
* The social influences as well as the defects of monarchy will be
found described in Bagehot's beautiful little work, " The English
Constitution." A monarch's social influence, we maintain, should
not be regarded as constituting, though it may indirectly contribute
to, political efficiency. The mere fact that " the women, more thaa
Iilf of the human race, care more for a (royal) marriage, than for an
ffective) ministry " could scarcely be cited as a reason for choosing
monarchy as form of government rather than a presidency.
592 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
APPENDIX
The Prerogative of the English Monarch in Regard
TO His Ministers
Before leaving the present subject it will be necessary to
consider an objection which probably has already occurred
to the reader, based on the apparently very limited powers
of government enjoyed by the monarch in England. In
the latter part of the preceding discussion we seemed to
take it for granted that the powers of the Enghsh monarch
are large and substantial. But are they really large and
substantial ? It is said that the monarch is without discre-
tion ; that by law he has to accept the judgment of his
ministers, make that judgment his own, and rule in ac-
cordance with it ; that for this reason he reigns but does
not govern ; that he is but as the hand on the face of the
clock, the moving powers being all within ; that his ministers
are not his " ministers " but his " masters " ; that his chief
function is to give dignity and splendour to government, to
elevate ministerial enactments into royal decrees, but not
to govern, or to shape or frame these enactments or decrees.
A cabinet it is said could not wear a crown. A mere corpora-
tion could not be anointed. The king wears a crown and
is anointed. Whilst, therefore, the sacredncss and splendour
are all from the king, the dry work of government rests with
what is especially called the king's government, that is,
his ministers in the cabinet. " A crowned Republic," is
how Tennyson describes the English monarchy. In England,
says Seeley,* you have the " unbounded power of a ministerial
Cabinet combined with the nominal maintenance of Royalty."
And Sidgwick writes : f " West European Constitutional
Monarchy is not, paracloxical as it may seem, essentially
monarchical in the ordinary sense, i.e. a permanent hereditary
king is not essential to it. In many cases — I do not say in
all — if the functions performed by the hereditary monarcli
were transferred to a president elected for a term of years,
the difference resulting would certainly not be so funda-
mental as to lead us to regard it as an essentially different
form of government." From all these assertions and com-
parisons it will readily be understood how widespread and
liow firm is the opinion that the monarcli in ICngland has
no important functions to perform, none that could not be
♦ " Introduction to Political Science," p 229.
t " Development of European Polity," p. 395.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 593
as well left to the cabinet and none that the cabinet is not
now in reality performing, and it is in order to show how
untrue and unfounded that view is that we have written
this Appendix.
But before setting out our own opinion, we wish to point
out to the reader who may not be quite clear on the exacj
point at issue and who may have been somewhat misled by
the passage which we have quoted from Prof. Sidgwick,
that our discussion here is not in the nature of a comparison
between the position of the monarch in England and that of
the president, say, of France or America, but is an enquiry
into the relation of the monarch to his cabinet. The very
same question that is here asked about the monarch of
England, could be raised also in regard to the president of
France. If the English monarch is left no functions to
perform, neither is the president of France, for both act
through their ministers and on the advice of ministers. We
are not, therefore, enquiring about the respective merits of
the English Monarchy and the French Presidency (that
comparison was made in the preceding chapter) or whether
it would make much difference if a president were sub-
stituted for the English king; our question is whether the
monarch in England has specific functions to perform
distinct from those of the cabinet, whether he has a specific
and important part to play in the direction and government
of the country,* and whether, therefore, it would make any
real difference in England if the monarchy were abolished
and the government of the country were placed exclusively
in the hands of the cabinet.
Now, before proceeding to answer this question, certain
distinctions have to be made. We must distinguish, first,
the moral and the legal powers or functions of the monarch.
By the moral power of the sovereign is meant the influence
which he is able to exert on others, either because of his
great position or his personal character and attractions, or
generally because of the esteem with which he is regarded
in private and public life. The legal powers of the monarch
are those which are conferred on him b}' the public f law
and can be enforced by the ordinary legal sanctions. Needless
to say we have here nothing to do with the moral powers
of the monarch ; our discussion relates to his legal power
and functions only.
* Of the social influence of the monarch we have here nothing to
say.
t Not necessarily by special statute ; some of these legal powers
conferred by the law of custom.
VOL. 11—38
594 THE [SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Secondly, we must distinguish between those legal power?
which are nominal and technical only, and those which are
actual i.e. on the one hand, those powers which were once
conferred by law, which have never been formally abrogated
by any Act of Parliament, but which are supposed to have
lapsed from want of use and as violating the present habit
and spirit of the constitution : * and, on the other band,
those powers which neither have been abrogated nor have
lapsed from want of use, and the exercise of which is stiJi
the strictly legal right of the monarch. f
Of course, in the present work we are dealing with the
second class of powers only — the actual and real powers
possessed by the monarch, not his lapsed powers ; but a
few words as regards the latter class of powers will not be
out of place at this point. It is quite evident that there
are powers nominally attaching to the monarchy which
have never been formally abrogated by law, but the exercise
of which is quite im.possible, and which, if acted upon,
would cause general surprise and resentment, and be re»
pudiated by the body politic as opposed to the present habit
and spirit of the constitution. For instance, the body politic
would never tolerate a renewal of the monarch's ancient
right to dismiss his ministry out of mere wantonness or
because they displeased him, or in order to elevate a favourite
to tliC rank of Prime Minister. But it is exceedingly difficult
to know in certain cases what powers of the monarch have
really lapsed from want of use and what remain in spite of
being unused. A power might remain unused because there
was no need for its exercise, but with the re-appearance of
the need its renewed exercise might even be regarded by
the nation not only as a right but as a duty. There are
unused powers that, if exercised under normal circumstances,
would shock the political sense of the people, but the exer-
cise of which under abnormal circumstances, or in times of
crisis, might be regarded even as imperative. There arc
• As a rule it is only those powers which seem to oppose the habit
and spirit of the working constitution that lapse from want of use.
And it is to be remembered that the habit and spirit of the constitu-
tion may change very rapidly at certain periods. The renewed exer-
ci.se of the king's right to attend the meetings of his cabinet would
have been opposed to the altered relations that had sprung up between
cabinet and king, even a few years after George I. had ceased to attend
those meetings
■f The reader may object to our speaking of the former class of
powers as powers at all, whether technical or not. But the distinction
18 at all events intelligible and it will be useful for the proper under-
standing of the remarks to follow.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 595
powers long unused by the monarch which able lawyers and
leaders of parties considered to have been irrevocably lost
to him, but which, nevertheless, the monarch has, on certain
occasions, been able to vindicate as still a part of his living
prerogative, simply by acting on the supposition that they
still remained. Many Unionist spokesmen maintained on
the occasion of the abrogation of the Lord's veto that the
monarch had lost the right of creating peers for the purpose
of overcoming the obstinacy of the Lords ; but the monarch
effectively reduced them to silence by exercising the right,
or rather by threatening to exercise it if the opposition of
the Lords to the Veto Bill were found to continue. Such
is the character of the constitution, depending, as it does, as
much on precedent and custom as on formal statute, that
one part of the prerogative may be abrogated by disuse,
and another part may not ; nor does it seem that there is
any general rule by which the two classes of cases can be
distinguished before a crisis arises except this — that a power,
the renewed exercise of which would be a violation of the
existing habit and spirit of the constitution is abrogated
by disuse, but a power which is not obviously out of harmony
with that habit and spirit, and which still subserves some
useful constitutional purpose, even though in abnormal cir-
(umstances only, may still survive for a very long period
after it has ceased to be actually exercised.*
These distinctions being made, we may briefly refer to
the content of the king's actual prerogative. The monarch's
prerogative may be examined under the following three
headings : —
(i) The king's discretion in appointing the ministers of
government.
(?) The power of the monarch in directing and influencing
the work of legislation and administration.
(3) The right of the king to dismiss his ministers and to
dissolve parhament.
(i) The king does not enjoy that absolute discretion in
the appointment of his ministers that was his in 1688.
At that time, and up to the year 1834, the king's right of
choosing his ministers was unliiTiited and unconditioned.
But in 1834 it was made clear to him that though he still
bptained the right of appointing his ministers, those ministers
id to meet with the approval of parliament if government
• On this whole question we recommend the reader to consult
eeman, "Growth of the English Constitution," pp. ii8— iig; and
jdd, " British Government in the Colonies," chapter i.
596 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
was to receive the support {i.e. the financial support) of
parliament.* That also is the system which now obtains.
Under present circumstances the monarch normally is left very
little, if any, discretion in the choice of the Prime Minister.
After an election the leader of the victorious party stands
out before the whole country as the chosen of the people,
and, therefore, almost automatically succeeds to the head-
ship of His Majesty's government. But circumstances
sometimes occur in which the monarch's right in this respect
may become real and operative. " The leader of the
(victorious) party," writes Anson, f " may not be obvious
and paramount. Such was the case in 1859 when Queen
Victoria, doubting if either Lord Palmerston or Lord John
Russell would consent to serve under the other, asked Lord
Granville to make an attempt. ... So again in 1894 when
Mr. Gladstone retired, the Queen did not consult him on
the choice of a successor but invited Lord Rosebery to
become Prime Minister." Another case in which the
monarch's discretion may become real and operative arises
when party lines, as Anson says, become " for a time in-
definite. They were so after the break up of the Conserva-
tives in 1846, and when the Coalition Government of Whigs
and Peelites was formed by Lord Aberdeen in 1852." Also
if, as now seems likely, the dual party should disappe, r in
England, owing to the formation of a third party as numerous
as either of the other two, the monarch's discretion in the
choice of his minister may then become as settled and ordinary
a part of his prerogative as the discretion now ordinarily
exercised by the president of the French Republic.
(2) The king has a legal right to be consulted on all
matters of legislation and government. In the sphere of
legislation he may refuse his consent to a measure passed
even by both Houses. Resistance to the will of Parliament
may often be both inexpedient and dangerous, but the
fact remains, that legally and formally, the consent of the
monarch is required for every measure, and if the monarch
should on any occasion prepare to run the gauntlet and to
set his face against a measure passed by the two Houses,
* The support of parliament was, of course, necessary even before
1834. But before that year a minister was assured of receiving that
support simply because he was minister. It was in iHvj that parlia-
ment first insisted that the policy of the minister should be antecedently
pleasing to parliament bef()re support could be ensured. See most
mtcresting passage in Seeley, " Introduction to Political Science,"
pp. 2K4 and following.
f " Law of the Constitution," vol. II. part 1, .^9.
THE FORMS OF THE STATE 597
the government in that case will have either to withdraw
its proposal or resign. It would, indeed, be foolish to under-
estimate the seriousness and importance of this great out-
standing fact. Legal power is legal power, however careful
and reserved one must be in the use of it. It is this power
which gives to the monarch his right to be heard on all
legislation. A monarch will not often oppose a measure
likely to meet with the approval of the two Houses. He
will, in practically all cases, accept the advice tendered by
his ministers, but he has a right to endeavour to shape and
modify that advice before it is finally tendered to him. A
monarch cannot be treated by the minister as if consulting
him were onlj^ a matter of form or a compliment to the
monarch's distinguished position ; the monarch has a legal
right to be heard, a right based upon his power of veto, and
it is this right vvhich gives him his great weight of influence
even in cases in which the actual exercise of the veto would
be out of the question. But, as we have said, there are
occasions where the king may oppose the advice tendered
him and actually interpose his veto ; but in that case he
must be prepared to face the risks and the possibilities to
be described in a succeeding paragraph.*
And what we have said of legislation is true also of ad-
ministration. The monarch's right of resistance is a great
reserve of power and has to be used most sparingly and
with the utmost discretion. But, such as it is, it places him
in a very strong position in his deahngs with his ministers.
The sovereign does not take independent action in regard
either to home or foreign affairs, but he has a right to be
heard in regard to both. In foreign pohcy particularly
he is most careful to be consulted on every matter, and
particularly to be informed in regard to all communications
with foreign powers, f
(3) We have said that it is only in very extreme cases that
the monarch would attempt finally and formally to reject
the advice of his ministers. As these extreme cases are
generally cases in which important matters of policy are
involved, resistance on the part of the monarch may generally
be regarded as involving the resignation of the ministry
and the subsequent dissolution of parliament. J The king
* p. 598.
t See Anson, II. I. 43.
IX The king after the resignation of the ministry must find a new
nister to intervene in dissolving parliament. He could not dissolve
rliament from himself.
598 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
can even dismiss his ministers if they refuse to resign, and
thus can force an appeal to the country.
The king cannot dismiss a ministry for any mere private
end. He can dismiss it only on the supposition that the
ministry does not enjoy the confidence of the House, or that
the House in supporting the ministry does not represent
the mind and feeling of the nation. The will of the people,
it is, that must finally and in all cases prevail. Let the
House represent the nation, and let the ministry enjoy
the confidence of the House, and then the monarch's hands
are tied. Let either link be wanting and then the monarch's
prerogative comes into play. If the king dismisses a ministry
enjoying the confidence of the House, which again, as the
result of the ensuing election shows, represents the will of
the people, the king has violated the constitution and will
be held responsible by the people.
Not lightly, therefore, but with extreme caution, would a
sensible monarch attempt to use his prerogative of dismissing
or forcing a resignation of the ministry. In a letter to Lord
John Russell, who suggested a dissolution in 1846, Queen
Victoria speaks of the power of dissolving parliament as
" a most valuable and powerful instrument in the hands of
the Crown, but one which ought not to be used except in
extreme cases and with a certainty of success. To use this
instrument and be defeated is a thing most lowering to the
Crown and hurtful to the country." But granted a certainty
of success the right of the monarchy to dismiss the ministry
is a right which may be exercised without fear of the results,
and its successful exercise only serves to enhance the monarchy
in the eyes of the people, and to elucidate and confirm the
apparent paradox that the principal safeguard of the popular
liberties, as against parUament and government, is to be
found, not in the rule of the people themselves or of their
representatives, but in the rule of one socially furthest re-
moved from the masses, and independent of them in the
title by which he succeeds to the position of ruler.*
* For an interesting discussion on the relation of the English
monarch to his ministers see Sheldon Amos, " Fifty Yea,rs of the
Enghsh Constitution," ch. III. sec. II.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE STATE— THE FUNCTIONS OF
SOVEREIGNTY .
The functions or powers of sovereignty generally
enumerated are three — legislation, government and
judgment. Laws have to be made, laws have to be
executed, i.e. the country has to be governed in ac-
cordance with the laws, decisions in justice have to be
rendered in accordance with the laws.*
Let us consider these three functions of sovereignty
separately.
Legislation
Relation of civil to natural law.
Civil or State law, as already explained, is related to
natural law in a two-fold way. Some State laws are
nothing more than promulgations, confirmations, and
enforcements of the natural law. For instance, the
natural laws of justice are accepted in every State.
Now these laws might not be known to the people unless
they were promulgated by the State ; they might be
held in very small account unless they were adopted
and confirmed by the State ; they might be violated
* Aristotle distinguishes three functions : deliberation (t6 ^ov-
\iv6fji€vov -Kepi tG)v KoifQv), government (t6 irepl rdj apxa^), judgment
(t6 St/cdfoc). The enumeration is not quite the same as that given
in the text, it is rather an enumeration of the powers of govem-
lent, as actually divided and allotted at Athens in Aristotle's
^me, than an enumeration of powers distinct in their very conception.
Thus under deliberation Aristotle includes not only law-making but
Iso all the other matters assigned to the deliberative body — the
itizens at large at Athens, viz. war, treaties, the inflicting of death,
ile, confiscation, the auditing of the magistrates' accounts. Many
these are really executive functions.
599
6oo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
freely and with impunity unless they were enforced by
the State. The State, therefore, makes the natural
laws of justice its own. The function of other State
laws is to fill in and make concrete and determined the
general or abstract requirements of natural law {de-
tenninans indeterminata a lege naturae), and these laws
are known as civil or Stare laws proper. Thus the
natural law binds men to the support of the State,
decrees that some form of government be adopted,
calls for the punishment of crime, etc. ; but it is left to
the civil power to determine how the State is to be
supported (whether by taxation or by voluntary con-
tribution, whether by direct or indirect taxes), what
form of government is to be established (whether
monarchical, aristocratic, or democratic), and what the
punishment to be fixed to each crime. All civil or State
law consists in the acceptance or application of natural
law in one or other of these ways, and, therefore, all
civil law is to be regarded as based on, and as sharing
in the sanctity of natural law.
The organ of legislation.
Our chief interest here lies in the organs of legislation
provided in the case of democracies. In ancient Athens
as also in some of the modern cantons of Switzerland,
as we have seen, the laws were made directly by the
people themselves. In all the larger democratic States
(even those that have in them an admixture of royalty)
the laws are made by parliament, i.e. bodies of men to
a very large extent elected by the people and repre-
senting the people. We say, " to a very large extent,"
because in many countries there is, besides the repre-
sentative and elected element, another clement also in
parliament, consisting of men not elected and not repre-
sentative of the people, but holding their position cith(M
by special appointment by the monarch * or hereditarily
• As in Italy
THE STATE 6oi
and because of their rank in society.* This non-elected
element usually belongs to the Upper House of Parlia-
ment, not to the Lower House — a distinction of which
we shall say something presently ; but since in most
democratic countries the position of the Upper House
is subordinate to that of the Lower, f so, it is the elected
representatives of the people that in most countries
exercise the chief influence and control over legislation.
We said that laws in democratic countries are made
by parliaments. As a matter of fact, the head of the
governmental or executive department is also in most
countries given a certain degree of control over legis-
lation, but in nearly all cases, machinery is provided
whereby the opposition of the head of the government
can finally be overcome, so that in the end it is parlia-
ment that exercises complete control. In England,
for instance, the king is given a veto on legislation,
but that right of veto he would hardly dare to exercise
in opposition to both Houses of Parliament, or against
the Lower House if elected on the particular issue in
question. In America the president has a veto, but a
two-thirds majority in parliament can always prevail
over his veto. In France, the president has no veto,
he can merely return a measure passed by the two
Houses, for reconsideration. In the end, therefore, it
is found that legislation is a function of parliament
mainly, and in parliament the chief control belongs,
in nearly all cases, to the elected element or House of
Representatives. J
The party system.
For the most part, parliaments are worked according
^o the party system. Looked at in the abstract there
* As in England. In Italy also many of the members of the Upper
louse succeed by inheritance and rank.
■f In Germany, in which the monarchical and aristocratic element
much more prominent than the democratic, the Upper House is
ery much stronger.
X Where the Upper House is elected it has nearly equal control
Iver legislation with the Lower, e.g. America and Switzerland.
6o2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
is really no reason why there should be parties at all.
It should clearly be possible for each member of parlia-
ment to record his own opinion, independently of others
and without combination with others, in connection with
each measure as it arises. Indeed, it would seem that
where the party system prevails the true conditions of
popular government can hardly ever be realised ; first,
as Rousseau tells us, because party compromises prevent
the people from expressing their true will (the general
will) in the election of their representatives ; * and,
secondly, because these representatives when sent to
parliament seem to be more intent on supporting one
another than on carrying out the wishes of the people
whom they represent.
But as a matter of fact the party system is necessary''
and unavoidable, and will be found not to be without
its uses. As long as men are men they will combine
to carry out certain projects, and as long as there is
combination there will be compromise ; there will be
men who in order to achieve the things in which they
are much interested, the larger and more important
projects, are prepared to sink their differences on minor
points, and it is such combinations as these that are
known as parties. Moreover, as we said, parties are
not without their uses. Indeed, parliamentary parties
are more than useful ; they are even necessary and for
the following reasons : first, in order that parliament
may reflect the mind and attitude of the people it repre-
sents. It is a mistake to think that parties are a creation
of parliament alone. The people also, independently of
parliament, are divided into parties, for the people also
have their larger or more important as well as their
minor interests, and the latter they are prepared to
sacrifice in deference to the former where the successful
attainment of the greater interest requires sacrifice of a
* Rousseau is in reality opposed to the whole representative
system. He maintains that the people cannot alienate their legis-
lative sovereignty and place it in the hands of representatives.
THE STATE 603
smaller, and combination with others on this basis of
sacrifice. Indeed, for the work of parliament there is
need amongst the people of a certain amount of party
combination and of give and take of the kind described.
No progressive programme could ever be carried through
unless behind parliament there was a " solid mass of
steady votes " urging a particular policy, and, for the
continuance of such support and such pressure on the
part of the electorate, some kind of party organisation
amongst the people is required.
Secondly, parliamentary parties are necessary for the
expeditious fulfilment of parliamentary business. It
would lead to too much confusion and waste of time if
every man were to indulge his own fads and bring for-
ward on any occasion in parliament any measure that
occurred to him as of public utility. Most of such
proposals would be sure to be rejected, and the time of
parliament would be taken up with the negative work of
their rejection.
Thirdly, without the party system there would be
no order or system or consistenc}^ in legislation. As
made up of single unrelated units, a body of six or seven
hundred members of parliament is nothing more than
a disorganised mob, speaking with a Babel of voices
and representing a wilderness of divergent opinions.
Under the party system the same body becomes an
organised whole, or is divided into two or more organised
wholes, each representing a certain unity of view and a
certain tradition. Thus, as each party or combination
of parties comes into power, a definite and consistent
line of legislation begins to be followed, and is pursued
during such a period as allows of the accomplishment of
some definite and connected legislative programme.
It is important also to remember that, whereas without
)artie8 the work of legislation is unduly retarded, much
iseful legislation excluded altogether, and unity and
consistency in legislation rendered impossible, on the
)ther hand, the greater the number of opposing parties
6o4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the less expeditious will the work of parliament become,
and the less unified and harmonious will be the legisla-
tion actually carried. For, the greater the number of
parties the more time will be wasted in the rejection of
useless or unsupported measures, and the greater the
number of new departures in the work of parliament as
successive elections return different parties to power.
Hence, although the complete abandonment of the party
system is neither possible nor desirable, it is obvious
that the more men aim at expedition and at some kind
of " consonance with diversity " in the work of legisla-
tion, the more will the different parties tend, if not to
disappear, at least to coalesce, the final result being a
tendency to a dualism of parties with sub-parties under,
or connected with them, all looking for as much as they
can secure of their own particular programme, and all
prepared, in order sooner or later to secure these ends,
to submit to the direction of one of the two great party
leaders.
The dual-party system.
Certain disadvantages at once suggest themselves in
connection with this system, which arc for the most part only
the general difficulties already mentioned, but enlarged and
intensified by the greater decisiveness of party under the
dual system. In the first place, this system is an attempt to
" squeeze a great many varieties of opinion into two rather
rough moulds," and often it is hard to scr that the moulds
can really bear all that is pressed into them. Party
coalescence is often exceedingly violent and artificial, and
the result can hardly be such as makes for healthy and free
development in the political life of the people. Secondly,
where there are only two parties, the strife of parties is
liable to be exceedingly bitter on account of the immensity
of the differences in their respective programmes. Thirdly.
the dual system leads to the avoidance of much good legis-
lation. No individual group would dare even to propose
a measure of any importance if by any chance it might lead
to disruption of his particular party. Fourthly, in pretending
to swallow the whole programme of the party, with much
of which the individual must necessarily be in disagreement.
THE STATE 605
members of parliament degrade themselves and are untrue
to what they conceive to represent the real interests of the
community. Fifthly, where the heads of the Executive are
chosen from the members of parliament, as is the case in
England, the government will naturally be representative
of one party only,* and many eminently suitable men will
be excluded from position simply because of the party
opinions which they profess. Lastly, under this system the
body of opinions held by a particular party at a particular
period becomes so stereotyped that departure from any
portion of it is rendered well-nigh impossible, even though
that portion is no longer really a necessary portion of the
party creed. It is certain, for instance, that many Con-
servative members, feeling little or no antipathy to home-
rule for Ireland, are compelled to oppose it for the sake
of maintaining the party tradition.
The advantages of the dual system are also the advantages
of the party system generally, but again improved and in-
tensified. First, although, as we have said, under this
system a great variety of opinions are squeezed into two
rather rough moulds, it is just these large rough moulds
that represent most truly the " simple and massive views
which Englishmen are accustomed to take in Politics," and
in the formation of which the ordinary Enghshman is not
meticulous as to harmony or consistency ; moreover, these
moulds are not so rough as would at first sight appear, for
under the dual system the party is, normally speaking,
regulated according to some general underlying policy or
principle which lends to the party programme a certain
degree of consistency and unity, one part of the programme
being a necessary accompaniment of another, or a logical
development out of it. Who will deny that the various
measures advocated by Liberals in England during the last
fifty years represent a fairly consistent programme, or main-
tain that the conservatives in opposing these measures
have not also been largely consistent with themselves ?
Secondly, under the dual system, parliamentary criticism is
bound to be persistent and keen, whilst, on the other hand,
its criticism will hardly be irrational ; an Opposition is
hardly likely to indulge in useless attack on an obviously
good and necessary measure, seeing that they may them-
jlves later be compelled by force of circumstances to have
Scourse to a similar measure to that now advocated by the
* In Switzerland nearly all parties are represented in the Executive
-the Federal Council.
6o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
ruling party. Thirdly, under the dual -system, at least where
parliamentary government obtains,* there is nearly always
one outstanding man who succeeds almost automatically
to the office of Prime Minister, viz. the leader of the party
returned to power, and thus this great office comes to be
filled almost directly by the people themselves at each elec-
tion. On the other hand, where many parties exist, the
selection of the Prime IMinister devolves on the head of the
Executive,t thus lessening the people's prerogative and
control over the policy of the government, and at the same
time imposing on the head of the Executive, i.e. the king
or the president, a task which is bound at times to become
not only difficult but most invidious. Fourthly, under the
dual system, the Cabinet is bound to be a more or less con-
sistent whole and can act with all the force and decision
that such unity and consistency afford. A many-coloured
or coalition government, such as must obtain where there
are many parties, is always weak and ineffective, and except
in abnormal circumstances is inferior in every way to the
single-party Cabinet. One feature of this greater efficacy
of government under the dual party system is the high degree
of stability which the conditions of the dual system make
possible in government. A heterogeneous government is
always unstable, and its instability is bound to communicate
itself to, and reflect itself in, many departments of the life
of the community other than the purely political de-
partments. J
The two-chamher system of legislation.
In most § democratic countries the legislative organ
consists of two chambers, an upper and a lower, whose
joint consent is normally required for the passing of
legislation. The primary end of this system, the end
which is common to every legislative system formed
on this model, is the opportunity which it affords for
revision of legislation by a new body either representing
the people in a new way, as in America and France, or
• Sec p. 59C.
+ In I'rancc it devolves on the president.
; 1-or an able dissertation condemnatory of the party system,
and particularly of party and parliamentary government, see Treitschke,
" Die I'olitiU," I., or " The I'olitical Thought of H. Von Treitschke,"
p. I Hi), by H W. C. Davis, MA.
§ In Greece and Bulgaria there ia only one chamber.
THE STATE 607
representing a different set of public interests, as in
Germany, Italy and England.*
According to some writers, revision of the legislative
measures introduced into the Lower House is necessary
merely on account of the immoderateness of many of
the peoples' representatives, or the fact that so often
they do not fully represent the mind of the people. " If
we had an ideal House of Commons," writes Bagehot,|
" perfectly representing the nation (and) alwa3's moderate
... it is certain that we should not need a second
chamber. . . . And whatever is unnecessary in govern-
ment is pernicious." Now there can be no doubt that
amongst the representatives of the people the possibility
of immoderateness, selfishness, and treachery will always
be an evil to be reckoned with, and, therefore, revision of
the legislative measures of the Lower House will always
on this ground be desirable and even necessary. The
Lower House is often ruled by mere temporary majorities
who would be willing to sacrifice the permanent interests
of the people for the sake of some passing public or
private advantage ; or the legislative programme of
the House may have been placed most imperfectly and
confusedly before the country at election time, so that
a popular mandate could not be claimed for any, not
even the more important, part of that programme. In
these cases, of course, revision by an Upper House is
manifestly a requirement of the public interest.
But revision by an Upper House is necessary, not
merely as an antidote to immoderateness and possible
disloyalty towards the people on the part of the Lower
* John Stuart Mill considered that full legislative deliberation
did not require the introduction of second chambers, since in any
properly constituted Lower House ample opportunity could, and
thould be given for second deliberations. He forgot that the ad-
vantage attaching to the two-chamber system lay, not in the possi-
bility it afforded of second deliberations, but of second deliberations
a new body. The chief defect, according to Mill, of the Single
'hamber system lies in " the evil effect produced on a holder of power
Jy the consciousness of having himself only or itself to consult." —
j[Rep. Gov. p. 97)
•f " The English Constitution," p 107.
6o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
House, but also apart from such undesirable tendencies
and possibilities. Revision by a new body would be
desirable even if the Lower House consisted of the
cleverest, keenest, and most conscientious of individuals,
and for the simple reason that even of the keenest
heads the old adage holds that two are better than one ;
in other words, even with the very best of intentions,
the true interests of the community may sometimes be
mistaken, and the mind of the people be misconstrued,
and in that case it is a good thing that a new body should
be present, with power to check and revise measures
before they are passed, and even to reject these measures
altogether until a decisive popular mandate shall have
been obtained upon them. This is the chief and essential
function of all Upper Chambers.*
But a body of this kind once brought into being is
very often entrusted with other important functions,
secondary functions, of course, for which by its character
and constitution it seems to be specially suitable, and
very often these special functions impart to the Second
Chambers possessing them a strength and an importance
in the constitution which they would not otherwise
possess. Sometimes Upper Houses are given the power
of vetoing treaties, as in America, sometimes of appoint-
ing to offices (in America all appointments of govern-
ment requires the consent of the Senate). In certain
countries the consent of the Upper Chamber is necessary
for a dissolution of the Lower House, e.g. in France and
Germany, whilst in some countries it can actually itself
dissolve the Lower House, as in Germany. Again, in
England the Upper House is a final Court of Appeal in
judicial matters. In America it tries for impeachment.
In France it is constituted a Court for the trial of all
cases of " attempt on the safety of the State." In
federal States, in particular, the Upper House exercises
• An aristocratic Upper House is also supposed to defend the
special interests «£ the more wealtljy and highly placed amongst
tnc citizens
THE STATE 609
a very special legislative function which finds no place
in countries built on the unitary principle, and it is
mainly this function which imparts to the Upper Houses
of federal States their most distinctive and important
character. In federal States the Upper House repre-
sents the several component States in the federal parlia-
ment, just as the Lower House represents the nation at
large. All these special characteristics and powers are
a source of great strength and added dignity to the
Houses to which they belong.*
The case of dead-lock.
One of the chief dangers attaching to the two-chamber
system is that of dead-lock, arising between the Houses.
Of course if the Lower House is willing to abandon the par-
ticular measure which is vetoed by the Upper House the
case of deadlock does not arise. But if the Lower House
insists upon its programme, and particularly if all legislation
is blocked by the opposition of the Senate, then unless an
* They are not, however, all equal as sources of strength in an
Upper Chamber. By a strong Upper House is meant one which
could hold its own in a conflict, whether with the Executive or with
the Lower House, and which could count, in entermg on such conflict,
on a fair degree of support from the people. The chief source of
strength to a Lower House, and of relative weakness to the Upper
House, consists in the existence of the system of parliamentary
government, that system, viz. under which government is compelled
to resign on an adverse vote given in the Lower House Thus, where
government is non-parliamentary, second Chambers are correspondingly
strong, as in America and Germany. Again, second Chambers are
strong in federal States because of their special function of repre-
senting the component States. In highly centralised countries Uke
France the second Chamber tends to be weak. Special executive
and judicial functions are also, as we saw, a source of strength. An
interesting problem arises in the case of the French Senate. Over
and over again it has proved itself a strong Chamber, capable even of
foicing the resignation of the government, even where the govern-
ment was not opposed by the Lower House. Now, in France we
have an instance of a highly centralised governmental system ; it
possesses the parliamentary system ot government ; and the Senate
has very few special functions. How then can the Senate be strong ?
We answer — the Upper House in France is not strong of itself. But
it is strong enough in comparison with the Lower House and the
government. For the Lower House is broken up into many parties
and is often divided against itself, and government has, therefore,
a weak reed on which to rely in the Lower House. In this way the
Upper House has constantly asserted its power with success. See
Lowell, " Government and Parties in Continental Europe."
VOL. II — 39
6io THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
appeal to the people is possible, deadlock may ensue between
the two chambers, causing the gravest inconvenience to
government and the people. It is strange, therefore, in
how few countries machinery is provided for the removal of
such deadlock. In America no machinery is provided. In
case of dispute representatives of the two Houses meet and
wrangle and generally affect a compromise, but constitu-
tionally there is no means of removing deadlock when it
arises. It is the same in Germany and France. In Italy
recourse is still had to the now disused English custom of
creating peers to break down the opposition of the Upper
House, whilst England has now provided for the case by
rendering opposition in the Upper House impossible after
a measure has passed the Lower House in three different
sessions within the lifetime of a single parliament. In
England this course was made possible by the utterly un-
representative character of the Upper House, but it is hard
to see how, in the case of the more democratic Upper Houses,
any machinery can be devised for breaking down the opposi-
tion of either House except the old machinerv of an appeal
to the people — the last great tribvmal of appeal on all matters
of legislation and government in everj' democratic com-
munity.
The Executive
It is not easy to find a single word which will success-
fully comprise all the powers usually assigned to the
sovereign governing body — the supreme executive in
any community. Usually, however, it is spoken of
simply as the executive. Roughly the functions of
this body are, first, to maintain the State and to devise
means for its maintenance such as taxation, public
property, etc.; second, to carry out the laws passed
by the legislature, and to administer the State in ac-
cordance with those laws ; thirdly, to punish those
citizens who violate the laws ; fourthly, to determine
the foreign relations of the State * and to declare and
• It is not always easy to know what are, properly speaking,
legislative acts, and what arc executive acts The distinction is
not always dclerrninablc throuRh the bodies to which these acts
arc severally entrusted. 'Jaxation is certainly an executive act,
though all budgets arc passed by parliament ; war and treaty-making
THE STATE 6ii
carry on war. To the executive, in fact, belongs the
whole residue of the public functions not included in
the two conceptions of " legislation " and " judgment."
The supreme executive power is exercised by the
sovereign executive body of the nation. But this body
delegates its powers to many other subordinate persons
and bodies, generally spoken of as the officials of the
government — the Army, the Navy, the Civil Service,
the Police, etc. Part of its powers it also delegates to
the local bodies which it entrusts with the management
of purely local affairs — the local executives. But the
supreme, the sovereign executive power reste always
with the central executive.*
Any attempt to determine the requirements of the
moral law in regard to all these functions of government
would be out of place in a work like the present and
would belong more properly to a work of casuistry in
the domain of Social Ethics. We believe, however, that
the principles already laid down in the present volume
on the duties of the State as determined by its end will
be found to be not only useful but also amply sufficient
for the solution of most of the moral problems arising
in connection with government.
We may, however, be allowed to say a brief word
here on one of the most important of the special duties
of government, a duty which, as we have said, though
exercised subject to the consent of the legislature, is
still properly speaking a duty of the executive, viz.
taxation. Taxes are certain payments exacted by the
also, though often placed to a large extent under the control of the
legislature, are really executive acts.
It may help the reader to understand what is meant by the supreme
executive when we say that in England the supreme executive con-
sists of the Crown and the ministers (the Cabinet), in France of the
President and Cabinet, in America of the President, in Germany of
the Emperor represented by his Chancellor, and the Upper House or
Bundesrath. The Upper House in Germany is at once a legislative
chamber and the supreme executive council of the nation.
* In a Federal State like America there are many central bodies
dividing between them the sovereign executive power of the nation,
viz. the central federal executive and the central executives of the
component States.
6i2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
public authority for the special purpose of maintaining
the State and enabling it to attain its end. Money paid
for any other purpose than this, e.g. fines inflicted for
violating the law, fares paid on State railways for value
received, is not, properly speaking, a tax. The State
enjoys a right of taxation because it has a right to take
the means necessary for its end, and its end being, as
we saw, natural, this right is also based on natural law.
In this ground we also have the measure of the right
enjoyed by the State in regard to taxation. The State
has a right to raise only such taxes as are necessary for
the exercise of the public functions. These functions
are, of course, exceedingly wide ; they include not only
the things that appertain to the very life and existence
of the State but also all kinds of public utilities ; and,
as the State develops, these functions grow often at a
surprising rate. Nevertheless it is important to re-
member that the State can impose taxes only up to
the measure of what is necessary for the exercise of
these functions, and that to impose taxes merely for
the purpose of enriching the State, or for the benefit
of private persons onl}^ is a grave injustice to the com-
munity. Certain conclusions are suggested by the fore-
going principle. First, it is the bounden duty of the
State, an obligation binding in the strictest justice, to
avoid a plethora of public officials, for the support of
whom taxes have to be levied ; and where, on account
of special circumstances, a certain increase in the number
of officials becomes temporarily necessary, it is the duty
of government to reduce this number, so far as the
existing rights allow, as soon as the special circumstances
disappear. Again, in England the House of Commons
is given ample control over all increases in expenditure
in the various departnicnta of government, but it has,
in practice no opportunity of effecting reductions in
expenditure, the estimates of one year being generally
accepted (in spite of the warning given each year 1)\
Ihe Treasury to the departments) as necessary for the
THE STATE 613
following year also. This is not as it should be.
Estimates should not be allowed to become stereotyped
in this way and open to alteration merely on the side
of increase. It is the duty of the State to reduce ex-
penses where possible as well as to avoid all unnecessary
increases.* Again, any kind of favouritism in the
giving away of contracts is a grievous wrong, not only
against the several competitors but against the public
at large, who in the end have to bear all losses in money
and efficiency arising out of the restricted competition.
We believe also that it is the bounden duty of every
government to exclude from the headships of the public
departments all persons known to belong to any society
which binds its members to give the preference to certain
sections of the community, even under the well-known
and most insidious proviso, " other things being equal."
To be bound to give preference in the case of govern-
mental contracts on any other basis than that of the
public interest should at once disqualify a man for all
positions concerned with the giving of such contracts ;
and to allow of his retention of such a position is a grave
offence against justice and a grave public scandal.
Distributive justice requires that taxes should be
distributed roughly in proportion to wealth. The man
who earns a livelihood only, i.e. a livelihood for himself
and his family, should be exempt from the duty of paying
taxes, at least such taxes as are directly paid. We
make the distinction because, where taxes are paid in-
directly and particularly where they are paid on foods
normally used by the people (tea, e.g. is now a normal
food for all), these indirect taxes are allowed for, in
determining the wages paid to workmen. But for the
most part direct taxes should be made to fall on the
* The system obtaining in England whereby the departments are
ade to return all imspent surpluses to the Treasury at the end of
h session leads to the gravest abuses. Any ordinary department
ill spend its surplus no matter how prodigally, rather than return
it, in order that the level of the estimates may be maintained in the
Uowing session.
6i4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
rich and in proportion to their riches. They should be
charged also according to a progressive scale, the rate
of increase rising more steeply in the case of the higher
incomes than in the case of the lower.* In this matter,
however, it is not easy to say where real violations of
justice occur. As regards the imposition of taxes one
can only insist on the general negative principle that
undue burdens should not be placed on the shoulders
of any section of the community. The detailed carrying
out of this general law is a matter for reason and ex-
perience and a legislator's good sense of justice and fair
dealing with the citizens.
Tp^e Judicial Function
The third function of sovereignty is that of declaring
and maintaining justice. The problem of justice arises
in two cases ; first, civil cases where no crime is alleged,
and, secondly, criminal cases where the law is alleged
to have been violated and satisfaction is sought in the
courts of law. In both cases the litigant on either side
may be either an individual or body of individuals or
even the State itself represented by the government.
Duties of the judge.
{a) A judge is supposed to possess the necessary skill
and knowledge required for the proper discharge of his
duties, and any attempt to discharge those duties without
the required degree of knowledge would be gravely
sinful and would impose an obligation of restitution in
respect of all wrongs sustained by either of the parties
through want of knowledge in the judge. A judge is
under no obligation to be omniscient even in the domain
of law, but at least he should be well versed in the law,
• Core, however, should be taken in effecting these steeper in-
creases not to stop accumulation of capital by rendering ail furthei
rises in income usclos". The free accumulation of capital is absolutely
nccciisary in the public welfare.
THE STATE 615
particularly in the law applicable to any case which he
undertakes to decide. If necessary also he should seek
pdvice from others.
{b) Judgment must be rendered according to law —
provided the law to be administered is not obviously
unjust. To inflict a penalt}' greater than that which
the law prescribes is a sin and would give rise to an
obligation of restitution.
(c) A judge must decide according to the public de-
positions of the witnesses and not according to purely
private information. In criminal cases, to condemn a
man on private information when his guilt cannot be
established in court would be a grave sin. On the
other hand, the opinions of authors vary as to the duty
of a judge who knows, from private information, that
the accused is innocent, but who is guilty according to the
depositions. In such a case the judge should certainly
do everything to establish the innocence of the accused,
but if his innocence cannot be established it is his right
and his duty according to St. Thomas to judge according
to the depositions of the court, even if it is a trial for
life. Other authors maintain that in all cases of very
grave moment, like that of a trial for life, the judge might
make use of his private knowledge and acquit the accused.
In lesser cases, and particularly in regard to crimes that
are attended by light punishments, it is maintained that
a judge should find according to the depositions of the
court.
{d) An interesting question arises in regard to civil
cases, viz. whether it is the duty of a judge to call the
attention of the court to some important fact which
an advocate, either through ignorance or carelessness,
has failed to bring to its notice. In general it is not the
oihcial duty of a judge to produce the facts or to see
lat they are produced. That is the official duty of
the advocates on either side, and for this a judge may
ilways rely on the ability and integrity of the opposing
lidvocates. It is even better that in general he should
6i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
do so, since otherwise he might be suspected of favouring
one side. But the question arises — granted that an
important fact is being omitted, may he or ought he to
bring it to the notice of the court ? There seems to
be no difficulty where the fact in question is a pubHc
fact, or where at least some remote and implicit reference
has been made to it in court. For then a judge can
hardly be said to use his private knowledge. But if
the fact is private and no reference has been made to
it in court, direct or indirect, the problem is anything
but clear. There are some authors who declare that
in no case could a judge make reference to it in court,
since such reference would amount to pleading for a
particular side. Others consider that the judge has a
full right, and even ought to do so, since it is the first
duty of a judge to do justice between the parties ; he,
therefore, has every right, as well as a duty, to ask any
questions that have a bearing on the case so that justice
may be done. But there can be no doubt that a judge
who omits to have produced the relevant facts could
not be bound to restitution, since, as we have already
said, the understanding, at least in these countries, is
that this is the official work of the advocates and not
of the judge.
(e) Where the evidence is certain, a judge should
decide accordingly. But what of doubtful cases ? In
doubtful criminal cases a judge ought to favour the
accused. In doubtful civil cases a possessor ought to
be left in possession until his right is disproved. Where
neither is in possession, some compromise ought to be
effected.
Obligations of advocates.
Advocates also have definite obligations towards the
law and towards their clients.
(a) An advocate should not undertake a case unless
he is possessed of the required knowledge, and having
undertaken it he should give it all reasonable care and
THE STATE 617
attention. He is responsible for all losses to his client
occurring through want of either.
(6) In a civil case an advocate should not undertake
the defence of a cause which he knows to be unjust,
and if its injustice should become manifest during the
hearing of the case he should resign his brief. The
reason is that, if he should win, his advocacy is the
means whereby a definite and certain injustice is done
to the other party.*
(c) In civil cases an advocate can make use only of
just means to further his case. If he wins by injustice,
for instance, by producing false witnesses or documents,
he is bound to restitution.
(d) In criminal cases an advocate may undertake the
defence of an accused person whom he knows to be
guilty, provided he uses no fraudulent or unjust means
in the defence.
{e) An advocate should examine his client thoroughly
beforehand, and to the best of his ability warn him of
the state of the case, e.g. that it is uncertain, and that
an action would be dangerous. If he fails to do so, and
if it is certain that his client would not have brought
an action known to be doubtful, he is bound to restitu-
tion in case of loss.
(/) To cause unnecessary delay in order to increase
his fees is a very grave sin in an advocate, and gives
rise to a grave obligation of restitution.
Trial by Jury.
The co-operation of lay-men in the administration of
justice is not without its dangers, but on the whole it is
* It is sometimes said that an advocate may take up a civil suit
which he knows to be unjust, because an advocate is merely an official
for stating the case on a particular side. This argument is quite
unsound and for two reasons. First, in an obviously unjust suit
there is only one case, that of the opponent ; secondly, in civil cases,
unlike criminal cases, an advocate pleads not only in favour of his
own side but as against the other, and, therefore, if the case is known
to be unjust, he knowingly aims at inflicting an injustice on that
other, and it is through his advocacy that such injustice will be
inflicted.
6i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
now universally believed these dangers are outbalanced by
the many advantages attendant on this system. The dangers
are : first, that a jury will be " over susceptible to the
prompting of the emotions," in other words, that they are
not possessed of the judicial temperament ; secondly, there
is danger of insufficient knowledge ; thirdly, there is the
very grave danger of party influence. The advantages are
that " the finding of a verdict requires a practical experience
of life, which a judge is apt to lose " ; that a jury of one's
countrymen will incline in the first instance to favour the
liberty of the subject, and rightly so, since the liberty of the
subject should be a first consideration in all judicial acts-,
also that twelve heads are better than one, particularly
since as in England the jury is not concerned with questions
of law but of fact only, questions with which they are fully
capable of dealing.*
In England, also, for a verdict there must be unanimity
on the part of the jury. In the words of Treitschke, " the
demand for unanimity, despite its rigour, is on the whole
fully justified." It seems an absurd proceeding, for
instance, to allow the vote of a single individual, as in
the majority system, to determine whether a man will
be allowed to be hanged or go scot free. Treitschke's own
recommendation is " a form of trial by judge and jury, in
which the practical experience of the judge shall co-operate
in the decision on the nature of the offence and the guilt or
innocence of the accused. But. on the other hand, the lay-
men shall have a voice in the apportioning of the punish-
ment."
Theory of the Separation of the Powers of
Sovereignty
Since Montesquieu f wrote his " Dc I'Esprit des
Lois," his doctrine of the separation of the functions
of sovereignty has assumed \-ery great importance in
political theory. Briefly this doctrine is to the effect
that the legislature should be distinct from the executive
and both of these from the judicature, i.e. that all these
functions should be placed in completely separate hands.
* I*'or the discussion on the advantages and disadvantages of the
Athcnicin dikasterics (corresponding to our modern juries) see Grote,
" History of Greece," vol. II. ch. xvi
THE STATE 619
The theory is based principally on the two following
arguments : first, that the analogy of other organisms
than that of the State suggests the separation of the
powers. In a natural organism each function is entrusted
to a distinct organ. The eye is made to see only, the
ear to hear only. It is in this way that the balance of
function is maintained in all natural organisms, and in
this way also it is maintained in the organism of the
State. If the executive function and the legislative
were entrusted to the same body, one would certainly
be given the mastery over the other, and the organic
balance of the functions could not be sustained.*
Secondly, it is claimed that separation of the powers
is a necessary condition of justice and the freedom of
the subject, and as this is the main reason usually
adduced for separation of the powers we may be allowed
here to consider this second argument in some detail,
and as applied to certain definite cases.
(i) If the legislative function were confided to the
executive, i.e. the body charged with executing the
law, then (a) the executive could legislate at an}'' time
and for any occasion or set of circumstances to the
great detriment of law and public justice ; and {b) the
people would find themselves completely at the mercy
of the government officials, a separate legislature being
the only power really capable of restraining the executive
in its dealings with the people and of keeping the executive
within the law.
(a) Laws are supposed to be general in their bearing,
i.e. they are devised to meet the general and more or
less permanent requirements of the community at
large. Only in this way can organisation and system
be introduced into the community, and only in this
|way can the balance of justice be maintained between
the various sections of the communit3^ If laws, for
fnstance, could be made or altered for each individual
:ase, say in order to determine the punishment befitting
* See Bluntschli, " Theory of the State," p. 518.
620 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a particular crime committed on a particular occasion^
free rein would be given to passion and prejudice, and
little regard would be had to the general claims of justice
in providing for such cases. Now government, or the
executive, charged as it is with the administration of
the State, and faced as it is with problems of administra-
tion, not of an abstract but of a highly concrete character
at each occasion, is, above all things, interested in par-
ticular cases and particular circumstances. Were such
a body empowered to legislate, as well as to execute the
laws, the temptation would always be present, and at
times might prove overwhelming, to legislate in the
light of the particular circumstances, and to legislate
for the express purpose of overcoming the particular
difficulties incident to administration in a particular
case. Special legislation would, for instance, be intro-
duced to meet the case of noisy agitators, who were an
annoyance to the government, and special punishments
would be devised to meet even ordinary emergencies
(which the administration so often imagines to be of
the nature of crises) — punishments which if applied
outside the special times, circumstances, and exigencies,
would be certain to meet with public disapproval and
resentment.
The gravest danger to be feared in this connection
is the danger of ex post facto legislation or something
akin to it, either of a positive description, for instance,
special legislation enabling the government to deport
troublesome labour-leaders, or, what is much easier
and more probable, legislation of a negative sort, an-
nulling a law that has been violated by some one whom
the government is interested in protecting, in the hope
that no judge would condemn a man for violation of a
law which at the time of trial had already been abro-
gated. All these possibilities are to be regarded as
gravely affecting the conditions generally assumed to
be necessary for justice and liberty. In general terms,
the liberty of the Bubject is sure to be outraged where
THE STATE 621
government is under no obligation of acting within the
law. But acting within the law has no meaning in the
case of a government that can make laws upon any and
every occasion (a power that would certainly belong to
government if it had also the right to legislate), just as
it would be absurd to maintain that a man acted up to
the rules of the game who could make and alter these
rules according as the game proceeded.
(b) This last argument can be confirmed by con-
siderations based on the necessity felt in every State
of providing in parliament itself some effective check
on the free and unfettered exercise of governmental
power. In every modern parliament the legislature
€njo3's the right of " question " or " interpellation," i.e.
the right to call upon the ministers of government to
give an account of their stewardship and to explain
and justify not only their own acts but also the conduct
of the subordinate officials. For this purpose, even
where ministers are not members of the Lower House,
they can be arraigned before the Lower House, and in
most cases are even supposed to be permanently present
or represented before that House in case the need for
question should arise. Unsatisfactory explanations may
be followed by a vote of censure, the enforced resigna-
tion of government, or the refusal of supplies. On the
other hand, if legislation and administration were func-
tions of the same body, this right of question or inter-
pellation would have neither place nor meaning.
In particular we may be allowed to refer here to the
need of a separate legislature as a protection against
prodigal expenditure on the part of the government,
and the possibility of excessive and unjust taxation.
Many of the departments of government are, above all
things, spending departments. Were government given
free access to, and full command over, the public
Iirse, depletion of that purse and national financial
in would be the sure and speedy consequence. Even
a countrv like England, parliament has to exercise
622 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the most ceaseless vigilance, and constantly to review
and alter the machinery of control at its disposal, in
order to keep the public expenditure within reasonable
limits.
(2) That the judiciary should be separate from the
legislature and executive is evident from the following
reasons : it should be separate from the legislature
because (a) the judge is the interpreter of the law. Now
law should be interpreted, not according to what it is
intended to mean, but by what it actually means. It is-
only in its actual meaning that a law is promulgated,
is made known to the subject, and binds the subject.
But a legislator is more interested in what a law is
intended to mean than in what it means, the legislator
being the maker of the law, and being chiefly interested
in the effects it is intended to produce ; and, therefore,,
he will be liable to read the intended meaning into it,
and if entrusted with the function of judgment will
tend to judge according to his own intentions and not
according to the actual provisions of his decree. A
legislator will not care to acknowledge or to assume that
laws have been rendered devoid of meaning or have
failed of their purpose through a flaw for which he ia
himself, to some extent, responsible ; and yet such
flaws occur, and are possible in the case of any measure.
A legislator, therefore, should be regarded as naturally
incapacitated from acting as interpreter of his own law,,
and, as we saw, interpretation is one of the chief
functions of the judiciary.
(b) The judicial function should also be separate from
the executive, because government may itself be a party
to the suit — nemo judex in sua causa. And even where
the government is not directly concerned, it may be
interested in a particular case from the point of view of
the public order, or for some other reason ; in that case
a judge who is the executive, or forms part of the
executive, will be under strong temptation to further
hJB purposes as part of the executive at the expense of
THE STATE 623
judicial impartiality, acting either on insufficient evidence
or according to private information, or in some other
fashion at variance with judicial honour and the judicial
conventions.*
The three functions of sovereignty, therefore, should
be in distinct hands. The proper and efficient exercise
of those functions requires it, and, above all, justice and
the liberty of the people demand it, for which reason
the revolutionaries of France made the separation of
the powers a cardinal article in the Declaration of the
Rights of Man. A country, they averred, in which the
powers are not separate " n'a point de constitution."
Effects of over-separation of the powers.
We have seen that to place the different powers of
sovereignty in the same hands would constitute a stand-
ing menace to the liberty of the subject. But as in all
human affairs there is another side to the picture. There
is such a thing as over-separation. If to combine the
powers is bad, so to separate them as to break down
between them every channel of connection, interaction,
and control, t would be attended by consequences equal
to, if not more formidable than those which we have
just described, and, strange to say, the categories of
disorder arising here are to some extent the same aa
those which we have traced in connection with the
^contrary system. Let us enumerate just a few of the
lore obvious consequences of over-separation, {a) Where
the executive is completely distinct from the legislative
power, in the sense not only of lying in distinct hands
* An argument is sometimes developed based on differences in
the habits of mind required for legislator, administrator, and judge,
and the difference in special knowledge required by each (See Mill,
Rep. Gov. pp 3(1-38). We do not attach much importance to the
argument.
t As in America. In England although separation of the powers
obtains, the Executive is largely dependent on the Legislature, ita
icmbers are even membei's of the Legislature.
624 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
but also of having no dependence on it, then govern-
ment is quite as free to deal tyrannically with the people
as in the S3^stem where both functions are combined.
Questions, of course, may be raised in parliament, votes
of censure may be passed, but unless the executive is
really under the control of parliament, question and
censure are of no avail. " Either House of Congress,"
says Bryce,* writing about the United States, where
separation almost completely obtains, " can direct a
committee to summon and examine a minister who
though he might legally refuse to attend never does
refuse. The committee when it has got him can do
nothing more than question him. He may evade their
questions, may put them off the scent by dexterous
concealments. He may with impunity tell them that
he means to take his own course. To his own master,
the President, he standeth or falleth,"
(&) Complete separation of the powers of legislation
and government or administration must sometimes end
in deadlock between the two. In America if Congress
and President hold out against each other there is reall}-
nothing to be done. Congress could, of course, refuse
supplies. But, as Bryce remarks, " to withold the
ordinary supplies and thereby stop the machine of
government would injure the country and themselves
far more than the President." Of course government
can be given the power of dissolving parliament and
forcing an appeal to the people, as happens in England,
but this power of dissolution supposes a certain control
of government over legislation and is inconsistent with
the idea of complete separation.!
(c) Even though conflict and deadlock do not ensue,
still the mere fact that the two powers arc in separate
hands leads to a certain want of unity and system in
the whole work and policy of legislation and govcrn-
• " The American Commonwealth," I. 210.
t In France, during the Kcvolution, conllicts between the powers
generally ended in a coup d'fitat. Witness, for instance, the bloodless
revolution of the i8th I-ructidor.
THE STATE 625
ment. Of the United States Bryce tells us,* that " its
branches are unconnected, their efforts are not directed
to one aim, do not produce one harmonious result." In
great crises this want of unity may be disastrous, and
it is for this reason, apparently, that in time of war,
the President of the United States would seem em-
powered in some way to throw off the yoke of the con-
stitution altogether, and to constitute himself dictator.
He did so at the time of the war of secession, and as
Bryce remarks, " without congressional censure."
{d) The executive, through not being represented in
the legislature, is deprived of all opportunity of guiding
legislation ; yet it is the executive that most fully under-
stands the needs of the country, and particularly in the
\ ery important domain of national expenditure.
(e) Finally we may draw a lesson from the long and
bitter struggle of executive against legislature that
proved so disastrous to France at the end of the eighteenth
century. Where the two powers are completely separate
each will struggle for the mastery, and the country will
suffer in the result. To the French constitution-makers
of 1791, 1793, 1795, and 1799 the one great constitutional
problem that presented itself was whether the legislature
or the executive should be the stronger in opposition.
To that problem they were being constantly brought
back by their whole-hearted acceptance of the theory of
the separation of the powers. But there was another
problem to which a milder acceptance of the same
principle should just as easily have turned their atten-
tion, yet which in reality never seems to have occurred
to them, viz. whether the legislature and executive
should really be separate and opposed ; whether, on
the contrary, it might not be possible, by connecting
them up together and placing each, in different
capacities, under the control of the other, to make of
these two departments not two opposed, but one har-
Ionious system, whilst still observing in aU essentials
* op. cit. p. 294.
626 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Montesquieu's doctrine of separation. In England the
greater prominence was given to the second problem
not to the first, and the result was early felt in the unity
and smoothness that have now been so long the chief
characteristic of the British Constitution. In England
parliament controls government, and by a vote of want
of confidence can force its resignation. But government
can also dissolve parliament, putting the parties to all
the uncertainty and expense of a general election.
The people are a third factor in this most effective com-
position of forces, on the one hand resenting the too
frequent use of dissolution, both as indicating incom-
petence and as attended by much commercial loss and
disturbance, and, on the other hand, insisting on their
ancient right of deciding the issues where really serious
interests are at stake. It is " this delicate equipoise,"
writes Bryce,* " of the ministry, the House of Commons,
and the nation acting at a general election (which) is the
secret of the smooth working of the British Constitution."
Parliamentary Government.
From what we have just said the reader will have no
difficulty in understanding what is meant by the system of
Parliamentary Government. It is that system under which
government is responsible to, and is controlled by parlia-
ment, in the sense that the chief executive is supposed to
be chosen from the members of parliament, and can be dis-
missed by parliament.
In England and France, where Parliamentary Government
obtains, the chief acting executive, the cabinet, f is chosen
from parliament. Every member of the cabinet in England,
every minister, is supposed to be a member of either House.
If a minister who is not a member should happen to be
appointed, he must seek for election to parliament as soon
as possible, and, if after a reasonable period he cannot find
a scat in parliament, he must resign. Again, both in luigland
• op. cit. I. 220,
f Neither king nor president must be taken into account here.
Both act through ministers. Their acts arc the acts of their ministers.
THE STAIE 627
and France the ministry resigns upon a vote of want of con-
fidence by parliament. A government may, of course,
before resigning make appeal to the higher court of the
people, at a general election. But if such appeal is not
made, the government is bound to resign. Parliament may
thus be said to exercise over government a kind of jurisdiction
analogous to that which the ordinary courts exercise over
litigants. They must either stand by the decision of the
ordinary court or appeal to a higher court.
In America and Germany, where parliamentary govern-
ment does not obtain, government or the executive (the
president in one case, the German chancellor in the other)
does not resign upon an adverse vote in parliament.*
In spite of certain obvious defects the parliamentary
system will be found to be the most consonant with the
requirements of a democratic State. It gives the people,
through their representatives, full control over government.
Also some degree of stabihty is afforded by the fact that the
ministry, being chosen from the legislature, will be careful
not to run counter to its wishes, and a still higher degree
by the fact, which is not of the essence of parliamentary
government, but is generally found to be an accompaniment
of it, that parliament can be dissolved by the government ;
for a parliament which can be dissolved by government will
not too lightly allow itself to differ in essential matters
from the government. Members of the majority in parlia-
ment have no liking for the expense and uncertainty of a
general election. f
A still higher degree of stability is obtainable, however
under another system which is spoken of sometimes as
semi-parliamentary government— a system under which
whilst government is appointed by parliament, and for the
parliamentary period, it cannot be dismissed by parliament. J
Whether such a system would work in England is uncertain.
as
W
* We may be permitted to point out here that in England the
prime minister or head of the Cabinet is chosen not only from parUa-
ment but in a sense also by parliament. The King is bound to appoint
as prime minister the leader of the victorious party at the general
.ection In France, there being many parties, the president himself
lercises a good deal of discretion in the choice of his prime minister.
_ t The defects of the parliamentary system of government can easily
be gathered from the preceding discussions. A powerful criticism of
the system is given by Treitschke in Die Politik See Davis, op. cit.
V- 195.
X The Federal Council, the chief Executive of Switzerland, holds
ce in this way.
11
628 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Its obvious defect is that once elected the executive is then
free of all further parliamentary control.*
The Cabinet System of Government.
Though parliamentary government is conceivable without
a cabinet yet the two are in fact coincident in all modern
States and tend to be coincident. We shall define the cabinet
according to the form which it actually assumes in every
modern State adopting cabinet rule. I'he cabinet is a body
of ministers constituting between them the supreme acting
executive and jointly responsible to the legislature for the acts
of all and each. First it is a body. If the Chancellor in
Germany took over all the work of the departments into his
own hands, and, therefore, became the only minister of
government, he would not merit the name of cabinet ; the
cabinet is a body. Secondly, the cabinet is a body of ministers,
i.e. of the heads of government. Existing cabinets are also
bodies of ministers in a further sense, i.e. ministers to some
ruling individual. In England they are ministers to the
king ; in France to the president. Thirdly, they are the
supreme acting executive. In England the king is the nominal
head of the executive. All acts of government are done in
his name. But the King of England, like the President of
France, has no power of independent action. He acts
through his ministers. Every act of his must be counter-
signed by them, or at least one of them. They, therefore, are
the acting as opposed to the nominal executive. Fourthly,
they act with joint responsibility. If the cabinet as a whole
cannot approve of the policy of any minister he must resign.
If he is allowed to stay, the cabinet as a whole is responsible
for his acts. Fifthl}', the cabinet is responsible to the
representatives of the people, to parliament, meaning that
it must resign if it loses the confidence of parliament.
The English and French ministries, as we saw, are cabinets.
The American is not.f The President of America has his
• In Switzerland, where the semi-parliamentary system is adopted,
this want of legislative control matters very little. The Swiss executive
would never dream of seriously opposing the legislature, niuch less
of challenging it to a trial of strength with the people. The name
" semi-parliamentary " government, as applied to Switzerland, is
hardly well chosen ; the Swiss system possesses not even one of the
characteristics of parliamentary government as it exists in France or
England. The ministers there are not even members of the legislature.
\ The American ministers arc sometimes spoken of as a Cabinet,
but erroneously.
THE STATE 629
ministers — the heads of the various departments. But these
ministers have no joint responsibility to any body, not even
to the president.* They hardly even meet as a distinctive
body, the function of each being simply to manage the de-
partment under his control, and advise the president in
regard to the work of that department. Besides, they are
not the supreme acting executive. They are in strict truth,
and literally, subordinates to, servants of, the President.
He appoints and dismisses them at his pleasure. So also
the German ministers do not constitute a cabinet.
Of the parts of our definition only one needs explanation
— the notion of joint responsibility. Why are the ministers
constituting the cabinet jointly responsible ? One obvious
reason is that government is one great organised act. It
cannot be divided up into a number of isolated departments.
No minister, therefore, ought to be absolutely free in
the department entrusted to him, i.e. his work should be
carried out with some consideration for the requirements of
the others ; and, therefore, oil are responsible for the policy
and acts of each.f Where the ministers are really subject
to one head as in America and Germany, it is for the head
to organise the work of all ; and, so, joint responsibility
amongst the ministers becomes unnecessary. But where
the ministers are themselves the supreme acting executive,
the necessity for joint responsibility is found to arise.
A second reason for joint responsibility is that the mind
of the cabinet must be one. The cabinet is the advisory
body of the king in England, of the president in France,
and advice (particularly under the system of parliamentary
government, where advice is reaUy of the nature of direction
and command and not of counsel merely), to be effective,
must be single and definite. To say to the monarch that
some of the ministers counselled one thing, others another,
would be practically to leave the monarch full discretion
to follow what course he pleased, and to revive the almost
absolute prerogative of the monarchy before 183^. " Now
is it," said Lord Melbourne, after a discussion on the corn
* The president, however, can dismiss them. They are responsible
to him but not jointly.
t The necessity for joint control is especially obvious in the
Iatter of finance. If each minister were independent he could beggar
1 the other departments by too liberal expenditure in his own. In
>uth Africa recently one minister declared that he would not be
sponsible for the finance of the government if the minister of railways
ere given a free hand in the work of his department.
630 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
laws, " to lower the price on corn or isn't it ? It isn't much
matter which we say, but mind we say the same thing."
It was a rough-and-ready exposition of the chief ground
and purpose of joint r«.sponsibiHty.
The Administrative Courts.
"We saw that in accordance with the theory of the separa-
tion of the powers, the executive should be separate from
the legislature, and the judiciary from both of these. In
regard to the legislature and executive, however, most
modern writers recommend not absolute separation but
such a degree of separation as will allow of a certain amount
of control being exercised by each over the other, and a
certain consequent unity of policy and effort. But the
judiciary stands in a totally different position, and all
authorities are agreed that to it must be accorded the fullest
measure of distinction from, and independence of the
other powers. Not only should the judiciary be vested in
separate persons, but the judges once appointed should be
independent of legislature and executive, both as regards
the exercise of their judicial functions and as regards their
tenure of office. A judge of the High Court in England is
irremovable except on a petition of both Houses.
An interesting case, however, of inconsistency in the
application of this general principle of the separation of
the powers has here to be considered. In some European
countries, by a curious inversion of reasoning, this principle,
which in general is regarded as necessitating the complete
separation of the judiciary from the other functions, is utilised
to yield a directly opposite conclusion in one department of
the work of the judiciary. The judiciary, it is said, ought
to be separate from the executive ; therefore, the judiciary
should not be given jurisdiction over executive matters ; as
a consequence, litigious cases in which the executive is con-
cerned, for instance, cases in which the executive officials
are accused of having exceeded their powers, should be
made to appertain not to the ordinary courts, but to executive
or administrative courts — " tribunals created specially for
this purpose, and composed of officials in the service of the
government." ♦ In France the judges of these administrative
courts arc not independent of the executive, for, whereas
the judges of the ordinary courts arc irremovable, those of
♦ Lowell, " Government and Parties in Continental Europe," I. 57.
THE STATE 631
the administrative courts can be removed at any time by
the President of the Republic*
Now it will be obvious that this system of administrative
courts cannot be said to accord very strictly with the ideals
of political justice. What chance has an ordinary citizen
in a suit against the government where the presiding judges
themselves are officials of the government and removable
by the head of government at will ? Far better and juster
is the system known as the " rule of law " obtaining in
England, under which all cases, whether against private
individuals or members of the government, whether the
case be one of private or public law, fall to the jurisdiction
of one or other of the ordinary courts, to be tried by an
ordinary judge, and not under special administrative laws
but under the ordinary law of the land. Moreover the whole
system is based on a false reading of the principle of the
separation of the powers. The principle of separation means
that an act of legislation should be performed by the legislative
body and not by the executive body : that an executive
act should be performed by the executive body not by the
legislature : and that judicial acts belong to judicial authori-
ties and not to the executive or the legislature. It does not
mean that affairs in which the executive is concerned,
should not come before the judiciary. If it did, such cases
could never be tried by any court or any judges, whether
ordinary or administrative.! Since judicial acts fall within
the function of the judiciary alone, the exercise of the
judicial power, whether in relation to affairs of government
or those of private individuals, should be a matter not for
* In Germany administrative courts also exist, but the adminis-
trative judges are there in a " much better position to control officials
than in France." In the highest of these administrative courts the
judges are appointed for life and cannot be suspended or removed or
" transferred without the approval of a judicial tribunal " — (Lowell,
I, 296).
t For an interesting account of the history and bearings of Ad-
ministrative Law, see Dicey, " Law and Custom of the Constitution."
We wish at the end of this long section on the " separation of the
powers " to point out that in no country is the theory of separation
carried out in its fullness. Just, for instance, as the King of England,
the head of the English Executive, has a veto on legislation, so also
the President of America has a (limited) veto. And just as in England
the House of Lords (a legislative House) is the final judicial Couit
of Appeal, so in America impeachments come before the Upper House.
In England, however, a large measure of separation obtains, and in
America much more.
632 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the executive but for the judiciary, and no distinction should
be made between an ordinary judiciary and an administrative
judiciary or judge or court. Under the theory of the separa-
tion of the powers the idea of an administrative judiciary or
administrative court is to be regarded as a contradiction in
terms.
CHAPTER XIX
INTERNATIONAL LAW
In the first part of the present volume we treated of the
rights and duties of individuals, in the second we treated
of the family and its place in the community ; in the
third of the State — its nature, attributes, and powers.
There remains the question of the relations obtaining
between vStates, of their rights and duties in regard ta
one another, or what is spoken of as international law.
The following working definition of international law
may be provisionally offered for the reader's acceptance :
it is that body of laws which determines and defines
the rights and duties of the general body of States in
their mutual relations and dealings.
We shall treat in the following pages, first, of the
immediate subjects of, that is, those who fall immediately
within the scope of, international law ; secondly, of the
different kinds of international law ; thirdly, of its
nature and character ; fourthly, of the existence of a
natural international law ; lastly we shall consider the
two special questions of " treaties " and " war."
The Subjects of International Law
International laws exist between States only, and,
lerefore, only amongst communities possessing the
'degree of organisation and independence which is re-
iquired by the essential conception of the State. That
:onception we have already fully examined. Its twa
[ihief characteristics are those of self-sufficiency (in the
technical sense explained *) and sovereignty. For the
* See p. 465.
633
634 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
first a certain degree of development and organisation,
•economic, juridical, and military, is required ; for the
second the possession of full original underived juris-
diction over the whole people and over every depart-
ment internal and external of the public life is an essen-
tial condition. Through want of the required degree of
development and organisation uncivilised communities
are generally regarded as lying outside the category of
the State, and, therefore, international law is not re-
garded as extending to these communities.* For want
of full sovereignty such communities as the component
" States " of the United States and of Germany are
€xcluded. They are not fully sovereign, and in par-
ticular they are without sovereign authority in the
sphere with which international law is immediately and
essentially concerned, viz. the sphere of the external
affairs of States.
A question much discussed amongst jurists is whether
tributary, client, t and other " dependent " States are
subject to international law. The difficulty here is,
that such States though technically sovereign, inasmuch
as they possess radical jurisdiction over all matters, a
jurisdiction also which is not derived from other States,
will generally be found to have placed themselves, or
been placed, in a position of dependence on some other
State, the control of a part of their affairs and particu-
larly their external affairs being placed in the hands of
the State to which they have been rendered tributary.
Now the position of such States in regard to inter-
international law would seem to be as follows : being
sovereign these States are naturally subjects of inter-
national law ; yet having placed, whether freely or not,
the control of their external affairs in the hands of another
• These uncivilised communities, however, have their natural
rights as against all others.
t It is not necessary to draw fine distinctions here between the
various kinds of dependent States. For these distinctions see Lawrence,
" The Principles ol International Law," p. 6i : also Wcstlakc, " Inter-
national Law," I. ch. 3,
INTERNATIONAL LAW 635
authority it is not to be expected that other States will
take cognisance of the radical sovereignty still remaining
to these tributary States, they may, therefore, properly
be treated as without sovereignty and consequently as
not immediately subject to international law. But this
practice is not to be regarded as opposed in any way to
the general position that the natural unit, coming im-
mediately within the scope of international law, is the
sovereign State.
The Kinds of International Law
International laws are divided into natural and positive.
Natural international laws are those laws that arise out
of the very nature of the State antecedently to State-
agreement or State-act of any kind ; positive inter-
national laws are those laws that depend entirely on
inter-State agreement, express or tacit, or on some kind
of State enactment or act. Thus the right of a State
to defend itself when unjustly attacked is a natural
right. The laws relating to the internment of war-ships
by neutrals in time of war are positive laws. Most
^ positive international laws, however, like most positive
■ national laws, will be found to be dependent on the
natural law as their ground and purpose, as will be
shown in a later section of the present chapter.
Again the distinction is sometimes drawn between
fuhlic and private international law. Public inter-
national law is that which obtains between States as
such ; private international law is a system of law that
obtains between one State and the subjects or the
property of another State under certain conditions, or,
it is that system of law which determines the rules to
be applied by the courts of a State, in adjudicating upon
j^_ the rights of private individuals, in cases where com-
^B peting jurisdictions in different countries are invoked,
^H or where the individual has acquired a domicile in, or
636 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
another State : as, for instance, the rule by which
courts in this country will refuse to decide the title to
lands in another country such as France, even in a suit
by French subjects resident in this country, or the rule
by which, upon intestacy, property in one country is
distributed, not according to the law of that country,
but according to the law of the domicile of the deceased.
Only public law is international law properly so called,
and,' therefore, when we speak in the present work of
international law we may always be understood to
speak of public international law only.
A further distinction is that of universal and particular
international law, i.e. those laws that are recognised and
acted on by all civilised races and those that are recog-
nised and acted on by certain States only. The former
will for the most part be found to coincide with natural
international law, since it is only what is natural that
is felt to be required by all.
Ethics being the science of the natural moral law, it
will be obvious that the only part of international law
of which account can be taken in the present work is
the natural international law. Our present chapter,
therefore, is devoted to considering the relations of
States in so far as these relations are governed by
natural law.
The Nature or Character of Interi^ational Law
The general definition of international law already
given may here be allowed to stand, viz. it is that body
of laws which determines and defines the rights and
duties of the general body of States in their mutual
relations and dealings. Two special questions, however,
suggest thcmflclvcs in regard to the meaning of this
definition — first, is international law really to be re-
garded as falling under the category of law in the proper
sense of that term ? Secondly, are the rights and duties
to which it gives rise moral rights and duties, or, in
INTERNATIONAL LAW 637
general, is international law governed by moral con-
siderations, and is it a portion of the moral law ?
(i) Law and the rules of international law.
It has been pointed out by some writers that what
we speak of as international law is really not law in the
proper sense, since law is a rule imposed by some one
having authority over the persons or communities
bound by the law. But States, it is argued, have no
common ruler, and the rules which determine their
relations are, therefore, not to be regarded as laws in
the proper sense of the term. Here, however, we must
repeat our distinction of natural and positive inter-
national law already given. The natural precepts of in-
ternational law are grounded immediately upon nature
{i.e. the natural relations between States as determined
by the nature of the State) and ultimately on the Author
of nature ; and as all States, like all individuals, are
subject to the laws of nature and to the supreme lawgiver,
so the natural precepts of international law are to be
regarded as laws in the strictest sense of the word.
They are imposed b}" One having authority over all
States. With the positive rules or precepts of inter-
national law. I.e. those rules that depend on agreement
onl}', it is quite different. These rules are not imposed
by any person or body having common authority over
States, and over international relations, but are matters
of compact and agreement only, just like the compacts
and agreements of private individuals ; and, therefore,
though, like private individual agi'eements, they bind
in conscience and in law and will be upheld by the
Supreme Lawgiver, nevertheless they are not laws in
the technical sense of the word, but rules or compacts
only, depending for their enforcement on the good faith
of the several parties to the contract. Since, however,
to separate the two sets of international rules, the natural
and the positive, calling the one set laws and the other
638 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
by some other name, would be most inconvenient, and
since international agreements once made, though not
themselves laws, are nevertheless agreements binding
the nations in conscience and binding by natural lam
(the duty of keeping to our contracts being a duty of
natural law), so it is customary now to speak of the two
groups, even those dependent on positive enactment,
as laws, and as making up between them the code
known as international law.
(2) International law and morality.
If doubt is sometimes expressed by writers as to
whether international law is to be regarded as dependent
upon moral law or is possessed of any moral bearing or
character, the reason is because these writers entertain
the most erroneous views of what the moral law really
is, and what the subject matter with which it deals.
International law, it is said, deals with actual needs,
with the material wants of States, whereas morality
deals with ideals merely, with supra-mundane things,
with what ought to he, not with what is ; and not only,
it is claimed, are these two categories of things distinct
and independent, but the attempt even to reconcile
them must often be exceedingly difficult. Now, as we
said, this view of the nature and subject-matter of the
moral law is altogether erroneous. The natural moral
law is nothing more than the necessity of doing or attain-
ing the things that are necessary for our natural per-
fection, i.e. the perfection which is obtainable by man
within the compass of his natural capacities. As man's
nature is given him by the Author of nature, of course it
is on the Author of nature that the natural law is ulti-
mately grounded. But it is grounded immediately upon
our human nature itself, and wc determine the precepts
of this law, not by direct examination of the divine
mind, which would be impossible, but by the study of
our own capacities and needs, their natinal objects, and
INTERNATIONAL LAW 63^
the acts necessary for the attainment of these objects.
It will thus be seen that the natural moral law is not to
be regarded as dealing with ethereal matters, as resting
on no need of our material life. The natural law is the
law which prescribes the things that are necessary for
our human natural perfection, and it includes every
kind of natural necessity, necessities of mind and of
body, the things necessary for each man personally^
and the things necessary in our dealings with one
another, the State, which we said is a necessity of nature,
and the necessary relations of States. Thus inter-
national law, which prescribes the things necessary for
States in their mutual relations and dealings, is nothing
more than a part of the moral law, and must be regarded
as governed generally by moral considerations.
Again, this theory of the non-moral character of inter-
national law may be met by the argument that it leads
to a conclusion the very opposite of that which it aims
at establishing. For the chief purpose of such a theory
is to exalt international law in the eyes of the world by
representing it as supreme and independent of any other
law or person or order of things, whereas what this
theory really leads to is the complete bankruptcy of
international law. Certain international laws, for in-
stance, are grounded on treaties entered into by a
number of civilised States. But if these treaties do
not themselves rest on something deeper than them-
selves, if they do not rest upon a law of nature, enjoining
the faithful performance of promises and contracts, and
forbidding the violation of treaties as wrong and sinful„
then treaties have no power to bind the contracting
parties to their performance, and each nation will not
only regard itself as free, but will also be entirely free,
to adhere to or to renounce such treaties just as its own
Iirivate interest dictates. This is much more than
laiming that there comes a time in the case of every
reaty when it can no longer be reasonably regarded as
•inding on the parties ; the present theory amounts to-
^40 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
the claim that such a time is always present, that in
breaking treaties a nation violates no obligation whatso-
ever, no matter what the circumstances, and that the
only question which a State could reasonably be ex-
pected to entertain, in regard to treaties which it is
tempted to violate, is the question whether, having
violated them, it will be strong enough to defy the
hostility of those States with which it has broken faith.
Such an understanding of the nature and binding-force
of treaties is clearly opposed to the conscience and
reason of the world. It empties international under-
takings of all reality, of all binding-force, of everything
that makes them great and sacred in the eyes of the
Avorld.*
That Some of the Precepts of International Law
ARE Natural
Writers of the English school f have long been ac-
customed to regard all international law as wholly and
exclusively a result of treaty, agreement, or under-
standing between different State?. All international
laws, they suggest, are based on treaty express or im-
plied, that is, they are either explicitly formulated in a
treaty drawn up by representatives of the States and
agreed to on both sides, or they are so widely accepted
and acted on by States as to give positive encourage-
ment to the assumption that they will continue to be
acted upon in the future as well as in the past. All
the rules of international law, it is maintained, can be
shown to depend on covenant or agreement of either
of these two kinds. What is spoken of as natural inter-
* Men cntcrtciining this view of treaties arc to be found, not in one,
but in every nation. It is only when tlic interests of themselves and
the nation to which they belong arc affected that horror is professed,
and vehement expression given to theories of an opposite kind.
t Sec Lawrence, " Principles of International I^w," p. iC. Very
often this view of international law is implied rather than expressly
stated.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 641
national law, i.e. a body of rules that are obligatory on
a State antecedently to its own acceptance of them,
and which would continue to be obligatory whether
States continued to accept them or not, is regarded by
this school of writers as a pure chimera, unknown to
the science of law, and wholly unnecessary for regulating
the relations of States in their mutual dealings.
Now this view of the character and origin of inter-
national law it is necessary to disprove before going
further with our present work, first, because it under-
mines the firm foundations of international law, and if
applied in practice would render all understanding and
peaceful communication between States impossible ;
and, secondly, because it is obviously opposed to reason
and the universall}^ admitted principles of morals.
That a system of international law based exclusively
on treaty, and independent of all natural principle,
would be bankrupt and without foundation, and value-
less as regulating the relations of States, is clear from
the very nature of treaties themselves. The binding-force
of treaties cannot depend on treaty. If it did, every
treaty imposing terms on the opposing parties would
itself presuppose another treaty binding to the fulfil-
ment of those terms ; that again would presuppose
another, and so on without end. Unless there was a
law of nature imposing an obligation of fidelity to
treaties, treaties as valid acts could never begin, they
could never acquire validity or binding force ; and in
these circumstances, as we have already said, the only
question which a State could reasonably be expected
to entertain in regard to treaties which it is tempted to
violate would be the question whether, having violated
them, it would be strong enough to defy the hostility
of those States with which it had broken faith.
Of course, it is to be admitted that nations do often
break faith with one another, and depend on the strength
of their arms in reckoning the consequences. But it is
one thing to take account of the fact that nations often
VOL. II— 41
642 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
do wrong and that force is often more relied on than
right ; it is another thing to claim that there are no
natural rights between States, no rights which States
are bound to recognise whether they wiU or will not,
and that in violating her engagements with others a
State violates no sacred principle by which all States
are bound. And that is, in effect, what the present
theory amounts to. It is a theory to which no responsible
ruler would dare to give public utterance, so evidently
is it opposed to the conscience of the nations ; it is a
theory which is publicly repudiated by aU men when
their own country has suffered wrong at the hands of
another more powerful State ; it is repudiated even by
those who freely violate treaty obligations, in the efforts
by which they attempt to prove that, before their own
course was taken, the treaty had already fallen through,
through violatiorf of it on the other side.
But our chief aim in the present section is to show
that the theory that all international law is based on
treaty, and that there are no international laws binding
by nature itself, is erroneous and opposed to the
principles of human reason. This we shall show in the
course of the following series of arguments : —
(i) This theory is based on the erroneous assumption
that all rights are founded on State authority,* from
which it is concluded that, since States are independent
of one another and there is no single overruling State
to determine the rights of all others, international rights
can depend on nothing else than agreement or treaty
between different States. Now this theory we have
• Indeed, it miglit safely be said that the present theory is only
an extension of the view which denies the existence of a law of nature
in any department of human action For our arguments establishing
the existence of a natural law of good and evil, see Vol. I. ch. iv.
See also p. f);,8 of present vol. for otir criticism of the view expressed
by Lawrence and others that the natural law expresses an " aspiration "
only and not a reality. The moral natural law expresses the fullest
realities, because it expresses the sternest necessities of nature.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 643
considered already at some length in an earlier chapter.*
We showed that there are innumerable rights which
depend, not on State authority but on natural law, such
as the right of husbands and wives to fidelity, of parents
to the respect of their children, of a man to help in
extreme necessity, of owners to their property, and, in
particular, owners from whom property has been stolen
but who, nevertheless, cannot prove the crime. This
right cannot depend on anything else than nature. We
instanced also the right of the State itself to make laws
curtailing the liberty of its subjects, a right which itself
precedes all ordinances of the State and, therefore,
could not depend upon State enactment of any kind.
Depending, therefore, as it does, on an assumption
which is wholly false and opposed to all admitted belief,
the theory that there are no natural international laws,
independent of positive treaty or agreement, is to be
rejected as without foundation, and opposed to the ad-
mitted principles of human reason.
{2) Were the State a purely artificial institution and
not natural, it might be possible to assume that inter-
national law had no dependence on nature, but rested
entirely upon human consent. But we saw in our
opening chapter on the State that the State is from
nature, that it is an institution required by nature, and
possessed of a special natural purpose and character.
It must, therefore, have special natural requirements
in regard to, and definite natural relations with other
States ; and, therefore, it has a natural right to the
fulfilment of those requirements and a natural duty to
observe those relations. It is evident, therefore, that
there are in existence certain natural laws, defining the
rights and duties of States in regard to one another,
(3) That there exists a large body of positive laws,
regulating the relations of States, will be admitted by
all. Now, it is possible to show that this body of positive
laws essentially presupposes other laws that are not
* Vol. I. ch. XX.
644 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
positive, i.e' depending upon State enactment or agree-
ment, but that are from nature itself and are, therefore,
natural laws. For, like the free actions of men, so all
positive laws will be found always to proceed from cer-
tain natural necessities which they are devised to satisfy
or fulfil. Men eat because there is in them a natural
appetite for food. They live together because of man's
natural desire for society. The State enacts certain
sanitary laws because certain things are naturally
necessary for health, and health is itself a natural
necessit3^ It is inconceivable that any ruler would
introduce laws into his dominion that were purely
artificial, that did not represent in some way, or go to
fulfil in some way, some natural requirement, however
general and indeterminate.* In the same way, all
positive international laws depending on treaties and the
understandings of nations, will be found to represent
some natural requirement in the relations of States,
and, therefore, some general natural international law
which the positive law is meant to determine and fulfil.
The preceding three arguments are a priori and general
in character. The following two arguments which are
of a more concrete nature will be found not only to
make clear the existence of a natural international law,
but will also bring us nearer to solving the problem to
be treated in the next section, viz. what are the rules
of international law that are to be regarded as natural ?
(4) It is clear that every individual has a natural
right in justice to his life, his property, his character,
and that any violation of these rights constitutes an
offence against the natural law. The existence of a
natural law of justice as between individual and indi-
vidual is undoubted, and from it we can deduce a
natural law of justice as between States, or a natural
international law of justice. For the natural law, which
forbids injury as between one individual and another,
* For the two modes in which positive law depends on natural,
see Vol. I. ch. xix.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 645
is not dependent on limitations of space aYid time ; a
man has a natural right to his life not because he is an
Englishman or a Frenchman or a German, but because
he is a man, a natural person ; and, therefore, a man's
duty to respect the lives of others, is valid and binding
not only in regard to persons living under the same
government as himself, but in regard to other persons
also ; an Englishman has no more right to kill a German
or an Italian than to kill one of his own countrymen.
The relations of justice obtain between human persons
as such, between all persons. They do not end at the
boundaries of States. The boundaries of States have
no significance whatsoever in determining the funda-
mental relations of justice. They hold for men separated
by the widest distances and living under the most
diverse governments.
And if relations of justice obtain between individuals
of different States, so, also, they obtain between these
States themselves. The State, like the individual, is a
natural person, a moral person of course, yet a person
and natural— naturally incorporated. States are equal
to and independent of one another ; and just as indi-
viduals, because they are equal and independent, have
rights as against one another, so also States have rights
as against one another. States, for instance, being
equal, they cannot use one another for their own pleasure
and convenience or otherwise treat one another as
subordinate. And these rights belong to States from
nature, and they bind even before they are agreed to or
recognised by the body of nations.
And what we have said of justice holds true also of
the other social virtues, such as benevolence or charity.
The individual is bound to love his fellowmen not merely
as Englishmen or Frenchmen or because they live under
I the same government as hirtiself, but as men, and because
all form one human family living under the same Supreme
Ruler and destined for one home and end. And just as
there are laws of charity obtaining between the subjects
646 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of different States, so there are laws of charity obtaining
between States as such. A State, for instance, is under
an obhgation to help another in distress. It is an
obligation which is subject to many conditions. It is
not an indefeasible duty like that of justice. But,
given the required conditions, it is a duty naturally
binding upon States, just as charity, as between indi-
viduals, is binding and natural.
From the foregoing line of reasoning it is evident that
some of the precepts of international law are natural
and not dependent on mere agreement or treaty.
(5) Though many of the rules of international law
have sprung out of contract between different States,
some of the more important and sacred laws have never
been made the subject of agreement or treaty. On the
contrary, they are universally accepted without need of
covenant or arrangement of any kind. Such, for instance,
is the law that no State should wantonly destroy the
property or the inhabitants of -another. This funda-
mental law of international morality is accepted by all,
and is recognised as binding on all States independently
of their own acceptance of it. It is a law which all
States recognise as one that they are bound to and should
accept, and, therefore, for validity it does not depend
upon its being accepted by the body of nations. The
assertion, therefore, of Mr. Lawrence that laws of this
kind are not laws until they have " met with general
acceptance and been incorporated into the usages of
States " is wholly groundless. The fact that these laws
are not embodied in treaties or other international
instrument, is itself proof positive that these laws are
not in need of being incorporated in written documents
or accepted by covenant, in order to be recognised as
binding upon all.
There arc, therefore, certain natural international
laws determining some of the relations of States, inde-
pendently of treaties or the URagca of 8ociet3\
The whole preceding line of reasoning will be made
INTERNATIONAL LAW 647
more intelligible and explicit in the following important
section, in which we attempt to deduce the chief inter-
national laws or principles of law that we accept as
natural.
An Enumeration of the Principal Natural Laws
Governing International Relations
We shall here attempt to set forth, not in full detail,
but yet in some kind of concrete form, the more im-
portant provisions of natural international law, first in
regard to justice, and secondly in regard to benevolence
or charity.
A. international justice
Justice * as obtaining between individuals is based on
the t natural juridical equality of all individuals as men.
Individuals regarded as men % are naturally equal because
they have the same natural final end.§ Juridical in-
equalities arise from the fact that the end of one thing
is contained in or subordinated to the end of another,
as, e.g. in a workshop where the end of the foreman is
the production of the whole work, whereas the mechanics
subject to him are entrusted with the production of a
particular part only. Where the end is the same,
juridical inequality, i.e. the relation of subject and
ruler cannot arise. On this fundamental equality of
all with all, regarded as men, is based the law of indi-
vidual justice. No man may lawfully interfere with
* We speak here of commutative justice only.
t See p. 81 and foil.
% Ruler and subject are unequal as ruler and subject ; but as men
they are equal.
§ And as we have already seen, I. 53, they have the same natural
final end because they have the same natural capacities with the
same functions and natural objects. In general the end of anything,
e.g. of a plant or of the heart or of the eye is determined by its functions
and the object it attains. For a fuller account of the nature and
foundations of justice see p. 81 of present volume.
648 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
another or with his property, or treat another as means
to himself or his own convenience by attempting to
exercise control over that other, or interfering with
his freedom in any way. To do so would be to treat
him not as an equal but as a subordinate. This is one of
the first .laws of justice obtaining between individuals.
In the same way each State is juridically the equal
of every other, since States have all the same end (viz.
to promote the welfare of their peoples). Each State
is a person (a moral person) sovereign and independent,
deriving its jurisdiction from its own nature and the
Author of nature, and not from any other State ; and,
therefore, no State is subordinate to another or may be
treated as subordinate.
Following on this conception of the juridical equality
of States there emerges a number of rights in natural
justice, which, since they are in principle accepted by
aU, need to be mentioned only very briefly in the present
work.
The three chief rights in justice enjo3'ed by every
State are (i) the right of existence and self-maintenance ;
(2) the right of property ; (3) the right of the free
exercise of its powers. A word on each of these.
(i) The right of existence and self-preservation.
The right to existence comprises the right, first, of
independence — no nation has a right to subjugate another
unless it is injured in some way by the other * ; secondly,
of integrity, personal and territorial — no nation has a
right under normal circumstances to deprive another
nation of a portion of its subjects, or to take a part of
its territory ; thirdly, of peaceable existence and the
loyal co-operation of its citizens — no nation has a right
to stir up sedition amongst the citizens of another State.
All these rights we comprise under the general right of
self-preservation.
• And then only under special conditions to be described later.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 649
This right of self-preservation belonging to every
State gives rise also to a right to the use of the means
necessary to self-preservation. Some of these means
are (a) the right of war in defence of one's rights, (b) the
right in time of peace to set up an army and a fleet, to
construct forts, and in general to equip itself remotely
for war. All these are remote means, and every country/
has a right to use the remote means of self-defence
even in time of peace. It has no right, however, in
time of peace to put into requisition the proximate
means of self-defence such as mobilising troops or casting
large numbers of troops on the frontier ; such an act
is rightly interpreted in international law as itself an
act of war, and is, therefore, illegitimate and disallowed
by natural international law.
It will be obvious that in all these cases a State can
exercise its rights of self-preservation and expansion
only on condition that, in doing so, it injures the rights
neither of other States nor of individuals belonging to
other States. A State could not seize either on the
warships or the merchant service of another neutral
power in order to supplement its own resources in time
of war.
(2) The right of property.
By the property of the State is understood its property,
first, in the strict sense, i.e. State-owned property, like
warships, guns, etc.; secondly, property in a wide sense,
i.e. the property of its citizens. The citizens being a
part of the State, their property is also subject m some
degree to the whole of which they are the part. In a
wide sense we shall also regard the territory of the State
as part of its property.
The State can acquire and own property by natural
law just as the individual can, for the State, like the
individual, is a person — not a physical person, but a
moral person, and property is an inherent right of
650 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
personality. The titles also by which the State acquires
property are, with the obvious exceptions of conquest
on the one side and inheritance on the other, the same
as those obtaining in the case of individual ownership.
They include the titles of occupancy, accretion, cession,
prescription.
Under this heading of the right to property we propose to
•discuss very briefly the foUowing three special questions :
(a) the question of State-occupancy ; {b) the question of
the right of civilised races to take possession of territories
occupied by uncivilised tribes ; (c) the question of the right
to appropriate a portion of the open sea.
{a) The State, by universal admission, can lay hold of and
set up property in territory not owned by another State.
The conditions of valid occupancy in this case have already
been enumerated.* For instance, the act must be such as
is fitted to convey to others the intention of the occupying
State. It is generally expressed by the two acts of annexa-
tion and settlement, i.e. the planting of a flag in sign of
ownership, and the actual and permanent settlement of
officials in the newly acquired territory in sign of actual
use. Again, a State can occupy by natural law only so much
territory as it is really able and is now prepared to control.
For this reason we saw that according to the positive inter-
national law I the occupation of a certain stretch of coast
"bestows ownership over such territory as is drained by
the rivers emptying themselves into the sea along this
stretch of coast, such being the extent of territory which
is supposed to fall under the effective control of a power
in possession of the coast.
It is important to remember that for occupancy on the
part of the State mere discovery is not sufficient in natural
law. The mere fact that an individual discovers a stretch of
unoccupied territory does indeed confer upon that individual
a right of private individual owncrsliip over portion of that
territory , provided the other necessary conditions of occupancy
are fulfilled. But it confers no right of State ownership. A
State assumes no responsibility for territory discovered by
one of its subjects, and can claim no ownership or juris-
• p- 139.
t which here is nothing more than a concrete application of a
purely natural principle*
INTERNATIONAL LAW 651
diction in respect of it, unless by an express act it proclaims
its intention to possess and control. Even, therefore, when
territory has been discovered by the subjects of a particular
State, and before that State has assumed possession by a
formal act of occupancy, it is open to any other State to
take public possession of it, full recognition of course being
given to the private rights accruing to the discoverer from
his act of successful private occupancy.
(b) We are led naturally at this point to consider the
important question of the right of civilised communities
to occupy the territory inhabited by uncivilised races. Here
we have to distinguish three cases, (i) A stretch of country
that is merely over-run by some nomadic horde may properly
be treated as a res nullius and taken into ownership by any
State. (2) An uncivilised people in occupation of a fixed
territory may be either so small or so devoid of organisation
as to fall completely outside of the category of the State,
for which, as we have already seen, a certain degree of
organisation, economic and juridical, is necessary. In that
case any civilised community may by an act of occupancy
take possession of the territory in question — and for the
reason already given. In every territory two ownerships
are recognised, individual private ownership, which is pro-
prietory ownership proper, and the ownership of pubhc con-
trol or public jurisdiction exercised by the State. Territory
which is occupied by an uncivilised community of the kind
described, though privately owned by that community or
the individuals composing it, is not under the jurisdiction
of any State, and it is, therefore, open to occupancy in so
far as public jurisdiction is concerned. But on no account
should the existing private rights of individuals be interfered
with in the case, it being undeniable that the members of
the smallest and least developed savage communities hold
their property on titles quite as sound and compelling as
those of civilised men. (3) Where, however, a community,
accounted uncivilised, possesses the numbers and the degree
of organisation required for a State in its technical sense,
where, for instance, a community, although not received into
the comity of nations nor recognised as a Poiver by other States,
is yet so organised politically, i.e. is so provided with the
necessary pubhc organs that other States could enter into
public relations with it, if they chose to do so, then occupancy
becomes unlawful, and invasion, unless justified on other
pities would be wholly at variance with natural justice.
652 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
(c) Next comes the question whether and to what extent
the sea can be appropriated. Whilst not insisting that par-
titionment and appropriation of the ocean is wholly opposed
to natural law, our position in relation to this question is
that such partitionment and appropriation cannot be said
to be favoured by natural law and that there are the strongest
natural reasons why private appropriation of the seas should
be forbidden by positive international agreement.
Our contention here relates to the open sea and ocean
only. That enclosed waters, like lakes and rivers, and also
the marginal seas, easily and profitably lend themselves to
appropriation, will readily be conceded by all. Their close
relation to the land brings them wholly within the control
of man : and capacity to use and control is, as we saw, a prime
necessity of ownership ; also the uses and need of ownership
over those waters will be apparent to all. But from in-
numerable points of view appropriation in the case of the
open ocean is found to be objectionable. In the first place ^
it would be exceedingly difficult to determine property in
the case of the open ocean. The waters themselves are
fluid, not fixed, and, therefore, the various territorial con-
fines could only be marked out by imaginary lines lying
between fixed landmarks : on the other hand, the land-
marks determining these lines might often be exceedingly
distant from one another so as to render the marking off
by their means of different zones of ownership an almost
impossible task. Again, to keep seas of the kind in per-
manent control would be well-nigh impossible, and would
certainly require more warships than it would be worth
even the most powerful nation's while to devote to such an
apparently barren purpose. Thirdly, the reasons for owner-
ship which obtain in the case of the land do not hold good
for the high seas. The land is brought under the control
of particular governments for two principal reasons ; first,
because it is llie hahitai of the race, and, secondly, because
it is rendered productive by human labour, and allows of
the harvest being reaped in every case by the same hand
by whicli it is sown. But the high seas are in the first place
essentially pilgrim places, on which people arc not meant to
rest ; and, secondly, in so far as they are productive, they are
in little or no need of human labour, whilst, even if labour
is spent upon them, the liarvest will generally be found, not
in the ])]ace where the labour lias i)een expended, but in
other and pr()l)ably far-distant regions. Fourthly, the open
unappropriated ocean is necessary as the great highway
of commerce bcfwccn f>!io nation and another. The nations
INTERNATIONAL LAW 653
of the world are not to be regarded as isolated units. Be-
tween them they make up one vast commercial society,
each being dependent on all the rest, and the open ocean
both symbolises this unity, and is the chief promotive con-
dition of intercourse between the parts of the social whole.
Though, therefore, the law of the open sea is not to be
described as an absolutely indispensable part of the law of
nature, still it is a law which is highly commended by nature
as most in accordance with the natural requirements. It
certainly ought not to be spoken of as a purely arbitrary
principle * and it has been fully received into international
law.
(3) The right of free action.
The third right in justice we have to consider is the
right of the State to free action and development. It
has a right to vary its own constitution, no matter how
inconvenient such variation may prove to other nations,
to enter fully into commercial relations with others,
to trade with and refuse to trade with whom it likes,
to give preferences to some nations over others, imposing
what tariffs it likes in any case. In general, any act
which is one of pure benevolence cannot be imposed by
one State on another as an obligation in justice, or
insisted on as a right.
The State has also a right to make treaties with other
States and to carry on what negotiations it pleases ;
and other States have no right to interfere in these
negotiations or to attempt to direct or end them, unless
some right in justice on the part of the intervening State
comes into question. States, too, have no right to
prevent expansion or development on the part of another
State on the mere plea that, in expanding, such other
State threatens to become a serious rival in commerce,
in military efficiency, or in world-power generally. Just
as no individual has a right to interfere with another
because that other threatens to become a serious com-
petitor with him in the race for some of the goods of
* It has so been described by Hall, op. cit. p. 298,
I
654 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
life, so also every State has a right to the full and
free development of its own powers, provided that
no actual or virtual aggression is committed against
other States.
B. INTERNATIONAL BENEVOLENCE OR CHARITY
Having considered the leading natural justice-relations
obtaining between States, we now proceed to consider
certain international rights and duties of chanty. Some
writers, who are fully prepared to admit relations of
justice between one State and another, are reluctant to
admit obligations in charity, this virtue, they contend,
being wholly foreign to the character and aim of States,
their character being that of sovereign and independent
societies not needing charity, and their aim being that
of warding off aggression and extending their own
influence in the world. But States do not cease to be
human merely because of their character as fully equipped
sovereign societies. On the contrary, it is because States
are perfect societies, self-sufficient and sui juris, that
they assume so much of the character and nature of
individual persons who also are independent and sui
juris, and on account of this likeness the laws obtaining
between States are largely identical with those that
determine the right relations of individuals. Just,
therefore, as individuals are bound to one another by
laws of charity, i.e. of benevolence, because of their
likeness to one another in their common human nature, *
so also States are bound by duties of charity because
they are all members of the family of human kind.
There will, of course, be differences in the requirements
of the law of charity in the two cases. A State, for
instance, could not lawfully surrender its independence
for the sake of another State as one individual may lay
down his life for another, the first duty of a State being
• See Vol. I. p. 320.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 655
the duty of promoting the good of its own people. But,
for the most part, the rules of charity obtaining between
States are identical with those obtaining between indi-
viduals. Just, for instance, as individuals may aid,
and, if they can do so without grave inconvenience,*
ought to aid one another when in distress, so one State
may, and where no grave inconvenience is feared, ought
to come to the aid of another State in its hour of need.
There is not a single reason obtaining for the existence
of rights and duties of this kind between one individual
and another that does not hold also as between States.
Both are human, both are persons sut juris and inde-
pendent, in both sets of cases each unit is allied to every
other in the possession of the same human nature, and,
as we saw in an earlier chapter of this work, it is this-
common possession which forms the essential condition
and ground of charity or of benevolence.
The principle of non-intervention.
The view expressed above brings us into direct opposi-
tion to the well-known theory of non-intervention in
international affairs, the theory, namely, that every
State has a right to follow what course it likes with its
own subjects without interference from other States,,
and also that third parties have no right, except when
their own interests are affected, to interfere in or attempt
to regulate or control the actions of one State in regard
to another State, no matter what may be the rights and
wrongs of these actions and relations, f Now, this
theory is utterly opposed to practice and to reason. It
is opposed to practice since, as Taylor writes, the right of
intervention " has been enforced during a long period of
* Justice obliges even in the presence of grave inconvenience ;
charity, speaking generally, does not bind where grave inconvenience
is involved.
t A much broader definition of intervention is given by some
writers, e.g. by Taylor. Intervention is by these defined as inter-
ference with another State for any purpose, even that of se//-defence.
I
656 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
time in a series of cases, some of which are now generally
^.ccepted as authoritative precedents " ; and it is opposed
to reason because, as we have already observed, the same
reasons that hold for benevolence and charity amongst
individuals hold also for the case of States. Just, there-
fore, as one individual has a right to intervene to pro-
tect another from unjust attack, so also one State has a
right to intervene in defence of another weaker State
which is being unjustly used by a more powerful State,
and also even in defence of the subjects of a particular
State when their own government is subjecting them to
an intolerable tyranny. It can also act in defence of
another government which asks for aid against anarchy
and wanton revolution on the part of its own subjects.
And the ground of this right of intervention must not
be mistaken. By Taylor the right to protect a State
unjustly molested by another is regarded as conferred
in some implicit way by the whole body of States as
possessing some kind of authority over each, and in
particular as possessing the right to punish acts that
are contrary to international law, whilst the right to
help in putting down tyrannies and revolutions is, he
informs us, given in the right of the whole body of
nations to prevent scandal in their midst. Now, that
the comity of nations is possessed of authority of any
kind over each sovereign State and is empowered to
** punish " violations of international law on the part
of any one nation, in the sense that a superior punishes
an inferior, is a wholly unwarrantable assumption,
grounded on no principle or fact of political science,
whilst the " scandal " theory of intervention is simply
an amusing fiction. The right and duty of intervention
are a part of the law of charity and benevolence, which,
equally well with justice, is to be regarded as grounded
in and guaranteed by our human nature. It is, there-
fore, a right conferred by our human nature, and by
the Author of nature, and not by enactments, express
•or iin[)licd, on the part of other States.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 657
On Treaties
Treaties are public compacts entered into by one
State with another or with a number of States. They
differ, first, from the private contracts which one
government makes with another, for instance, a con-
tract for the purchase of war materials, for which reason
we say that treaties are public contracts ; secondly,
from contracts made by the State with private indi-
viduals ; thirdly, from concordats, which are solemn
binding engagements entered into between the State
and the Church.*
Treaties are effected by the heads of States, or by some
part of the supreme governing authority specially
designated in the constitution as empowered to effect
treaties. In America, for instance, all treaties require
the consent of the Senate or Upper House. Sometimes
the provisional concluding of a treaty is entrusted to
diplomats or plenipotentiaries delegated by the sovereign
authority. But a treaty to be binding must be ratified
by the sovereign authorities or, as we have said, by that
body to whom the constitution and sovereign body
entrusts this function.
The conditions required for a valid treaty are for the
most part identical with those which determine the
validity of ordinary contracts. Treaties, for instance,
that offend against the natural law, and in particular
the natural international law, are quite invalid. Thus
* As head of the papal dominions, the Pope could make treaties
with other governments ; as head of the Church he enters into con-
cordats with them. Writers on one side and the other have attempted
to maintain that concordats are not binding contracts. Some jurists
would exempt the prince from all obligation, some canonists the Pope.
Both opinions are absurd. What is the meaning of such agreements
if they are not binding on the two parties ? Some writers, again, main-
tain that concordats, though strictly binding on both parties, are not
binding in justice because of the inequality of the two parties. Such
technicalities it would be useless to attempt to examine here. Con-
cordats are certainly binding in conscience on both sides, and they
certainly are of their nature contractual acts. They have the same
binding force, therefore, as treaties, though they are distinct from
treaties.
VOL. II — 42
658 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a treaty having for its object the unjust subjugation of a
particular nation would not be valid.
Two special questions arise in regard to the binding
character of treaties : (i) do they bind when made
under duress ? (2) when do they cease to bind ?
(i) We must here distinguish between two cases.
First, a treaty made under duress, say, made under
threat of war or forced on a defeated belligerent, can
hardly be regarded as binding, or at least should be re-
garded as rescindible,* if the conditions imposed are
manifestly and flagrantly unjust, for instance, if they
are such as to reduce a State to the condition of absolute
and irretrievable penury, f and the duress is extreme.
Injustices of this kind receive no character of sacredness
from the fact that they are perpetrated by way of treaty,
and, therefore, they can hardly be regarded as binding
the affected nation in commutative justice. It is true,
as Grotius J (who defends the opposite opinion) main-
tains, that the doctrine that declares such treaties
invalid is not without its dangers for the peace of the
world, since it might be too largely availed of by rulers,
more bent upon the pursuit of their own interests than
the interests of justice. But, as one eminent writer §
remarks, there is an opposed danger also to be considered,
the danger, viz. that if such treaties were generally
held to be valid the stronger States might lend them-
selves too easily to the practice of dealing unjustly
with the weaker and forcing unjust treaties on their
acceptance. Apart, however, altogether from the ques-
tion of possible misuse on either side, we have, as we
have shown, the strongest reason for believing on
intrinsic grounds in the invalidity of unjust treaties
made under duress ; but we repeat that, before this
♦ For rescission of treaties sec p. 660.
t On this soc Schiflini, " Philosophia Moralis," p. (>ou. Other
writers, like Hall and Lawrence, adhere to the view quoted from
Grotius above.
t De Jure Belli ct Pacis, lib. 3, c. 19, n. 1 1.
I Schiflini, " Philosophia Moralis."
INTERNATIONAL LAW 659
doctrine could be applied in a particular case, the con-
ditions which we have mentioned must be most rigorously
fulfilled, viz. the duress should be extreme, the injustice
most grave and manifest, and, we may add, rescission
should only be attempted or invalidity assumed where
no other way is open to the party to escape the injustice
forced upon him. «
Apart, however, from this very special case of unjust
treaties, other treaties imposed on a nation under duress,
say imposed on a defeated belligerent, or imposed under
threat of war, are to be regarded as valid and binding
in every case, provided that the parties who conclude
the treaty are personally free, A monarch or pleni-
potentiary threatened with torture or acting out of
fear for his personal safety, is not free personally, and
treaties forced on him under these circumstances would
not be valid. But if the framers of the treaty are
personally free the treaty is valid and binding in inter-
national law. In this the case of treaties differs from
that of the ordinary contract. For two reasons an
ordinary contract, if made under duress, is without
binding power ; first, because one of the parties to the
contract is personally unfree ; secondly, because it
would not be for the general good if such contracts were
held to be binding, they would be wrung out of defence-
less people on all occasions. Neither of these reasons
holds good in the case of treaties, the first because the
case has just been specially excluded by us ; the second,
because, if treaties made on occasion of war were not
binding, practically no treaties would be binding, and,
besides, wars would be unending and the peaceful settle-
ment of public questions would become impossible.
(2) Treaties become extinct, first, when their objects
are satisfied ; secondly, when they become void — and
they become void in several ways, e.g. by mutual con-
sent of the parties, by extinction of one of the parties
as a State, by execution having become impossible,
by the " express condition on which the continuance
66o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of the obligation of the treaty is made to depend "
ceasing to exist, or, finally, by a treaty becoming incom-
patible with universally admitted international law. A
more difficult question arises in regard to the voidability
of treaties, i.e. the case in which treaties, valid at the
time of conclusion, and continuing to be valid until
repudiated fey one of the parties, may lawfully be so
repudiated. The case, of course, is not considered in
positive international law ; by one writer * it is even
said to be a case that transcends law ; and certainly it
is very difficult to lay down any kind of general rules
that will be of use to one in particular cases. But all
admit that there are cases where treaties may be re-
garded as voidable, f and so some general rules, however
abstract, must be available for determining when a
party may declare a treaty void, i.e. may declare itself
" freed from the obligation under which it has placed
itself." [a) This right, it is generally admitted, is
acquired when an implied condition of its obligatory
force at the time of the making of the treaty ceases to
hold good. For instance, where one party has failed to
fulfil his obligation in regard at least to the main object
of the treaty, the other may rightly regard itself as
justified in repudiating the treaty even in its entirety.
Again, a treaty becomes voidable " so soon as it is
dangerous to the life or incompatible with the inde-
pendence of a State J provided that its injurious effects
were not intended," or contemplated as possibilities,
" by the contracting parties at the time of its con-
clusion." § If as a result, for instance, of an entirely
• Lawrence, op. cit. p. 328.
t Ordinary contracts when voidable are extinguished generally
by the civil courts ; but in the case of treaties, there being no common
government with jurisdiction over the parties, it is left to the parties
themselves in certain justifying circumstances to break away.
X As Taylor writes {op. cit. p. 401) " if a treaty is consistent at
the outset with the right of self-preservation it is an implied con-
dition that it shall remain so."
§ Hall, op. cit. p. 327. For a full treatment of this question sec
Hall, abo Taylor, op. cit. p. 400.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 66l
new and wholly uncontemplated set of circumstances
observance of a treaty would involve the extinction of
a State or complete loss of independence, such treaty
might justly be repudiated by the affected State. But
in its very terms a treaty might be intended to concern
the loss or extinction of itself, i.e. the merging of itself
in another State, or it might by its very nature imply
the possibility of the occurrence of circumstances in-
volving its own destruction, and in that case the ob-
ligatory force of a treaty would still continue, even on
the occurrence of those circumstances. For instance, a
treaty made to avoid the use of poisonous gases in war,
or to observe the neutrality of neutralised countries in
time of war, must still be regarded as binding, no matter
how great the advantage attaching to the violation of
such treaties, or how complete the defeat threatened
on either side. Treaties of the kind are made for the
very circumstances here contemplated, they are brought
into operation rather than extinguished by the oc-
currence of these circumstances, and, therefore, a State
should suffer any loss rather than attempt to violate
these treaties.
But apart from these cases, i.e. the case in which
dismemberment is itself the object of the treaty, or the
case in which circumstances that might possibly involve
the greatest disasters to a nation, are themselves the
circumstances for which the treaty purposes to provide,
a treaty is to be regarded as voidable where observance
of it would involve the destruction of a nation or com-
plete loss of dependence. Treaties are made for a
future that supposes the independence and sovereignty
of each party to the treaty, and, therefore, they become
voidable under circumstances involving discontinuance
of these.
(6) Further than this it is not possible to go in regard
to the question of the voidability of treaties. Such
theories as that a treaty ceases to be obligatory when it
662 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
becomes unduly onerous to one of the parties,* or when
it proves incompatible with the general good of a State,
could not be too strongly disowned and repudiated. A
nation might, indeed, be bound in charity and humanity
to reconsider, and if possible to temper, conditions of
agreements that have proved to be much more onerous
to the other party to the contract than was at first ex-
pected. But in strict justice such agreements lose none
of their obligatory force by the occurrence of these un-
foreseen ejects. And the reasons are obvious. First, all
contracts, whether of individuals or of States, involve,
and are understood to involve, the risk of possible loss
or disadvantage arising through variation in some one
or other of the circumstances attending their fulfilment.
Such risk is the price that all parties are prepared to
pay for the security as well as the definiteness and the
permanence of the obligation which the contract im-
poses. The man, for instance, who makes a contract
to buy coal at a certain price for a long period may
lose through the prices falling. But this risk is run for
the security afforded him against the possibility of rising
prices. And treaties are contracts and follow the
ordinary rules of contracts. Again, if States might
regard themselves as released from their public contracts
through even grave losses attendant on their fulfilment,
treaties would be repudiated every day, and would
lose, as instruments for promoting the peace of nations,
their whole effectiveness. And it is to be remembered
in this connection, that, to treaties, as a means of recon-
ciling international interests, there is no other alterna-
tive that can at present be looked on as practical
politics but that of unending war, and the continued
tyranny of the strong over the weak.
• For these opinions see Taylor, op. cit. p. 402, and Hall, o/>, cit.
p. 328.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 663
On War
Definition.
By war is meant a condition of armed active hostility
between two or more sovereign States.
In the first place, war is a conflict between sovereign
and independent States only. A State does not go to
war with individuals, or with peoples as opposed to
governments, or governments as opposed to peoples ;
it goes to war with a whole State, sovereign and inde-
pendent like itself.* Secondly, war is conducted by
force of arms. Mere commercial hostility and aggression
would not constitute a war. War is a trial of armed
strength between two States. Thirdly, mere preparation
for future aggiession is not a war. War is essentially a
condition of actual hostility and conflict between rival
States.
The kinds of war.
Wars are just or unjust according as the conditions
necessary for justification, to be emimerated later, are
present or not.
Wars are also divided into defensive and offensive.
This distinction is of the utmost importance in relation
to the discussions to follow. Some writers use these
words to signify respectivelv — war on the side of the
State against which war is first declared, or first entered
upon, and war on the side of the State that first declares,
or first proceeds to wage it. But it is evident that in a
just war, and we are here supposing a war to be just,
the declaring or opening of war always presupposes some
previous hostile or unjust act on the part of the State
against which war is undertaken, and, therefore, a war
may be defensive even on the side of the State that
declares war — it may be a defence against those acts
* Civil wars are public conflicts only ; they are not wars in the
proper sense of the term.
664 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
of hostility and injustice that preceded and brought it
about, and that still continue in their effects. It is
better, therefore, to use the word defensive war to signify
a war undertaken in defence of the people, property,
or honour of the State. An offensive war will be a war
that presupposes no injury, and, in particular, a war
undertaken merely in order to injure or destroy a State,
or for purposes of enrichment at the expense of another
State. i
Lawful war is always of the nature of defence.
Authorities are all agreed that a just war alwa\^s
presupposes some dishonour or injury inflicted by one
of the belligerents ; they are agreed also that war is
imdertaken on account of such dishonour or injury. In
a broad sense of the word, therefore, it can be main-
tained that every war is of its nature vindicative, in the
sense, viz. that it relates to a past offence or injury.
But it is necessary to come to some more definite con-
clusion than this, on the relation obtaining between war
and the offence or injury that brings it about.
Broadly speaking, there are only two views possible
with regard to the relation obtaining between a lawful
war and the injury that precedes and causes it. One
is the view that war, if it is not always punitive, at all
events may be punitive in character, that it may be
undertaken to punish a delinquent State. The other
view is that war is always of its nature defensive, that it
is always undertaken in defence of the people, the
territory, the property, or the honour of a State — that
it is never undertaken in poenam.* It is highly im-
portant, particularly on account of the consequences,
♦Sometimes we speak of a war of retaliation, liut retaliation
is cither a punitive act or an act undertaken to recover the equivalent
of what one has lost, in property or in honour. In this latter sense
retaliation is an act of defence — defence of one's property or one's
honour. Our claim remains, therefore, that punishment and " de-
fence " arc the only two possible theories.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 665
that we should come to a definite decision as, to these
two rival views of the nature and purpose of war.
Now, that war is of its nature defensive and not
punitive is evident ; and it is proved by means of the
following arguments : —
(i) War is a fight between equals, neither of whom has
authority over the other, whereas punishment is in-
flicted by superior on inferior, by ruler on subject.
(2) When one man steals a hundred pounds from
another, the second has a right to recover this hundred
pounds. If he can do this without violence this is the
sole extent of his right.* If not, he may use violence
for the recovery of his property. So also it is agreed
by all that if one State captures the territory of another,
that other has a right to recover its territory ; but if
violence is not required for its recovery, as in the case
in which the delinquent State offers no resistance to its
recovery, then violence and war are not allowed, f On
the other hand, if war is necessary for the recovery of
the captured territory, it may lawfully be undertaken.
It is agreed also that when a nation has been dishonoured
it has a right to the recovery of its honour ; that if an
apology suffices for this end, this is the extent of the
right of the injured State, that if this is not sufficient,
and if war is the only means of recovering the national
honour,! then war is lawful. From all this it is evident
that war is not supposed to be undertaken in -poenam
alterius, but in defence only. Were war punitive in
purpose it could be undertaken even when full compensa-
tion is offered by the delinquent State. War being
lawful only for the sake of recovering what has been
* He can, of course, appeal to the ruler to punish the thief.
t We suppose that a second invasion is not threatened by the
delinquent State.
{ This end — the recovery of the national honour — will easily be
understood by an example. If a man strikes me in the lace and
then proceeds to walk away with his hands in his pockets, I am dis-
honoured by his act. But if he walks away instead, having received
a sound thrashing, my honour is restored.
666 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
lost, its purpose can be nothing else than that of
defence.
(3) If war could be waged for purposes of punishment
it would sometimes be lawful not only to wound enemy
combatants, but also to put the wounded to death.
But there is no nation so barbarous that it will not
defend itself against the charge of killing wounded
men. It is, therefore, the clear view of mankind ex-
pressed in acts of war that the only right which war
bestows on a belligerent is the right to put an enemy
out of action, to stop aggression ; that its right, there-
fore, is to defend itself against attack. It is because
war is essentially defensive that, as soon as the attack
is over, and no question of defence can further arise,
no further aggression can be undertaken.
(4) We cannot punish a man for an act, however
injurious, which is done in bona fide ; in other words we
can only fiunish a man who is formally guilty of a
criminal act. But one State can go to war with another
if it is clear that its own rights have been violated,
without thought of or care for the bona fides of that
other. If wars were disallowed through the bona fides
of the supposed offending party, few wars would be
allowed in natural law.
In a lawful war killing is indirect.
War being of its nature an act of defence^* it follows
that killing in war is indirect and not direct. It is
never lawful to will directly a thing which is evil or
unlawful or disallowed ; but it is lawful under certain
conditions f to do an act, good or lawful in itself, for the
sake of the good consequences which it produces, even
though it is known that the same act will be attended
* i.e. defence either of the beUigercnt State itself or of some other.
Any nation when unjustly attacked may call on another State for
aid. ThiH other State then enjoys the same right of violence again&t
the invader as is allowed to the injured State.
t Sec these conditions, vol. I. ch. ii.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 667
by evil consequences also. In that case we are said
to will these evil consequences indirectly only. An
important application of this far-reaching principle was
found in the problem of killing an unjust aggressor in
self-defence. It is lawful to do such violence to an
unjust aggressor as is necessary in self-defence. Now the
one thing necessary in self-defence is to stop the aggres-
sion of the enemy, to render him incapable of further
aggression,* and to take such means as are in strictness
required for this. The means are — striking, wounding,
rendering him incapable of movement ; but killing as
such is never necessary. And, therefore, whilst it is
lawful to aim at wounding an unjust aggressor, at
wounding him even severely, it is not lawful to aim
at killing him. Of course, in the heat of the combat it
is not possible to discriminate between the things
which will wound only and the things which will kill,
but even here the principle holds that it is not lawful
to aim directly at the death of the aggressor. If, how-
ever, as a result of the quality and vigour of our defence,
the aggressor should meet, not with injury only, but
with death, his death is only indirectly attributable
to us, and our act is still lawful and free from
.guilt.
It is the same in the case of war. A nation goes to
war in self-defence, f For this, all that is necessary is
to break down the resistance of the enemy, to put him
•out of action, and this, and what is necessary for this.
* i.e. on this occasion. You could not take means to render a
man incapable of attacking you twenty years hence or even six months
hence. One defends himself only against present aggression. See
vol. II. p. loi. The reader should recall all that we have written on
the problem of kilUng in self-defence.
■f It must be remembered that the defence, spoken of here, is defence
against the wrong originally inflicted. A nation whose territory is
taken by another may go to war in defence of its right to that territory,
and if it meets with opposition on the part of the delinquent State
it may beat this opposition down by force of arms. This beating
I down of the enemy forces is still part of our defence, just as striking
the thief who tries to hold on to stolen articles is part of the defence
of our property.
i
668 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
a nation may aim directly at accomplishing. But
death as such is not necessary for this,* and, there-
fore, a nation may not aim directly at the death of the
enemy. If, however, as a result of our defence the
enemy should not merely fall, but be slain also, his
death is not to be attributed to us directly, and our
act still falls within the category of a blameless
defence.
Now, in actual battle it would be ridiculous to expect
a soldier to make this distinction and to use the instru-
ments of war in such a way as to wound only and not
to kill. But such precautions are possible in devishtf^
and supplying the instruments of war. It is lawful to
supply any instrument of war that can be used for
bringing down an enemy, for wounding him, for knocking
ing him out of battle, such as swords, ordinary rifle-
bullets, shells. The natural law does not even prohibit
the use of asphyxiating gases, f since this weapon of
war, brutal as it is, is, nevertheless, compatible with
wounding and not killing the enemy. But the natural
law forbids the direct aiming at the death of the enemy,
and, therefore, it prohibits such practices as the use of
poisoned or explosive bullets, the sole and necessary
• This very important proposition we regard as self-evident.
Once the power of movement is lost, the attack necessarily ceases.
Death, as such, therefore, could not be necessary (on this see p. 99),
Nor can it be claimed that death is necessary in self-defence, since a
soldier that is merely wounded may recover and return to the field.
For, first, defence proper always concerns present, not future, aggres-
sion. To ward on future aggression is a preventative act, not de-
fensive. Secondly, whether a soldier that is merely wounded will
return or not, and whether or not it would be lawful to take the
means now to prevent his future return, it always remains true thai
death, as such, is not necessary for warding off even future attack.
To wound with sufficient severity or to inflict a sufficient number of
wounds is all that is required. Therefore, whilst the defence may
be mtide as violent as possible, to aim at death is not allowed. Thirdly,
if killing is lawful in order to prevent recovery, then there is no reason
why the wounded and all those who fall in battle should not bo
attacked anew and slain. But this the conscience of all nations regards
with horror as opposed to all the laws of legitimate defence.
t Such practices are, however, rightly excluded by international
law.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 669
effect of which is to kill ; * it forbids also the killing of
soldiers fallen in battle, since the killing of the wounded
can in no way be construed as an act of self-defence.
Combatants and non-combatants.
War being of the nature of self-defence and not
•of punishment, the distinction between innocent and
guilty enemy- subjects does not arise. It would be
wrong to punish a person who is not formally guilty
of some crime ; but I may kill a man who makes an
unwarranted attack upon my life, whether the aggressor
is innocent or guilty, whether, for instance, he is sane
or insane, or whether he believes his act is justified
or does not. But if the distinction of innocent and
guilty does not arise in the present connection, the
distinction of combatant and non-combatant not only
arises but is of the very highest importance. War
being an act of defence, it is lawful for a belligerent
to beat down all opposition on the part of the enemy,
and, therefore, it is lawful to beat down and scatter
all enemy combatants. But war confers no right of
\'iolence as against non-combatants. To do violence
to a non-combatant could never be construed into an
act of self-defence.
The question, however, arises — ^who are those that
fall under the category of combatants, to whom, there-
fore, violence may be done ? The answer is — under
the title of combatants are included in natural law all
those who are engaged in actual aggression. This in-
cludes, first, all those who form part of the actual forces
of a belligerent State ; and, secondly, all others who
are actually engaged in the promotion of the war. To
ill these violence may be done. A State at war cannot
kill persons who are potential combatants merely.
* It is only by accident that an explosive or poisonous bullet does
not kill, for instance, if the explosive bullet happens not to enter the
body, or the poisonous bullet is at once extracted and the prescribed
medical precautions are taken.
670 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Every person in the State, even down to the babv
in the cradle, is a potential combatant, and surely
the child in the cradle cannot be killed as an aggressor.
But it is lawful to kill all soldiers in uniform or soldiers-
called to arms; also all who perform auxiliary services,*
such as workers on arms and munitions, persons con-
nected with transport, i.e. with the supply of food and
the implements of war, and persons working a field
telegraph. All these are actual enemy aggressors.
Mere sympathy would not bring a man under the
category of an actual aggressor, and so it would not
be lawful to slaughter the populace because of their
known sympathy with the enemy. But the immediate
supplying of the sinews of war to the enemy is more
than sj^'mpathy, and effectively brings a person within
the category of an enemy combatant.
Again, not only prisoners of war, but also all who-
offer themselves as prisoners, fall outside the category
of enemy combatants and should be treated as such.
Soldiers who genuinely offer themselves as prisoners f
must be received as prisoners even if there is no food
available for them. It is never allowed to treat a non-
combatant as if he were still an aggressor. It would
be wrong also to treat prisoners of war as hostages,
i.e. to exact promises from the enemy under threat of
killing the enemy prisoners. On the one hand, a State
has no authority over the lives of prisoners taken in
war except in regard to actions done after capture.
On the other, to kill them is not an act of defence ;
♦ It is persons performing auxiliary services that seem to be referred
to in Art. s of the Hague Regulations under the title of non-combatant
urmcd forces. The title is not a good one. They are combatants,
but not armed.
t Spies belong to a wholly different category. A spy entering
enemy territory attempts to pass off as a subject. But by assuming
the privileges of a subicct he must assume the onera as well, and, there-
fore, can be treated as a subject and punished for his crime in any
way pleasing to the authorities. Prisoners taken on the battlefield
have not posed as subjects, and, therefore, cannot be treated as sub-
jects, and cannot be punished except for crimes committed after
they have been taken.
I
INTERNATIONAL LAW 671
and, therefore, the State cannot lawfully put them to
death.*
The same principles that govern the rights of a
belligerent in regard to killing enemy persons in war^
determine also their rights in regard to the destruction
of enemy property. All property which is destined or
ear-marked for purposes of war can be lawfully destroyed,
even if it belongs to private persons. f If a war-loan
could be destroyed its destruction would be perfectly
lawful. But the persons suppl3ang such loan could
not be killed, because the killing of such persons would
in no way promote one's purpose in war. Their death
would still permit of their property being made avail-
able on the side of the enemy.
* But rebels may be held as hostages, since the State has full
authority over them, and could punish them for their rebelUon even
by killing them.
t Other private property cannot. But this rule relates to the
actual waging of war. The rights of a belligerent over property
in a district which he has successfully " occupied," even though the
war is not yet brought to a conclusion, e.g. the occupation of Belgium
by the Germans in the great war begun in 191 4, are different. In
general, the successful invader might exercise ownership over pubUc
property, since, being in occupation, he stands in the place of the
dispossessed Government. But private property he should respect.
The positive rules of international law, at least so far as land
warfare is concerned, will, in the main, be found to bear out this view
of the requirements of the natural law. Thus, of public property,
movable goods (with certain exceptions excluded by treaty, e.g.
works of art) may be appropriated by the invader ; whilst over
immovables (again with certain exceptions such as places of public
worship, museums, etc. the seizure of which is forbidden) the invader
is given usufructuary rights, i.e. he can gather the fruits but must not
destroy the things. As regards private t>roperty, immovables, speaking
generally, cannot be appropriated by the invader, and even the profits
arising from them cannot be confiscated, whilst movables must not
be seized unless they are calculated to help the enemy for some purpose
of war. As regards requisitions and contributions, the general rule
seems to be that only so much should be levied as is required to support
the army of occupation and to pay for the administration of the place ;
but for such exactions either payment must be made or a receipt
should be given entitling the private persons affected to future re-
muneration, either by their own or by the enemy State. Of course,
fines may be levied on account of damage or resistance by the civil
inhabitants. For detailed information see Lawrence, op, cit. pp. 436^
.439 ; and Westlake, op. cit. II. ch. iv.
672 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Air-raids and the sinking of merchant vessels.
Arising out of the distinction of combatants and
non-combatants, is the question whether air-raids and
the sinking of merchant and passenger vessels are
lawful.
Air-raids upon fortifications, arsenals, military bar-
racks, munition factories, and other belligerent insti-
tutions and places are lawful, provided every care is
taken to spare the lives and property of non-com-
b>atants. But indiscriminate air-raids upon cities like
London, Manchester, Cologne or Berlin are quite un-
lawful. For, first, such raids are obviously undertaken,
not in order to kill enemy troops, but as a part of the
general policy of " f rightfulness," the policy, viz. of
inspiring non-combatants with fear and so under-
mining the morale of the enemy State. Such raids,
therefore, are undertaken directly with a view to the
death and destruction of non-combatants, their death
being desired as a means to the lowering of the public
morale * It is impossible to think that air-raids, which
are always expensive and always dangerous to the
raiders, would be undertaken for the mere off-chance
-of killing the few enemy soldiers that might happen to
be abroad at the time of the raid. Secondly, lawful
indirect killing always requires some proportion between
the good expected from one's act and the deaths which
occur. And, therefore, even if what is aimed at directly
in these air-raids is the killing of a few soldiers, these
itidiscriminatc air-raids are quite unlawful, for there is
no justifying proportion between the chance killing of
a few enemy soldiers on the one hand (a chance that
can hardly ever be realised) and the certain death of
many non-combatant citizens on the other.
* As was pointed out before, you aim directly at a particular
object, whether that object is intended as an end in itself, or as a
means to something else. The man who kills another in order to
Ktit that other's money, aims at his death quite as directly as if hp
killed for tho sake of killing.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 673
The sinking of food ships destined for the enemy is
not disallowed in natural law, since it is the soldiers in
the field that have the first call upon all incoming
supplies, and it is lawful to deprive them of these sup-
plies. To sink passenger vessels, or liners, carrying
munitions of war or engaged in some other belligerent
mission, is lawful, provided that all that is possible is
done to save the lives of the passengers. To sink
passenger vessels not engaged on any mission of war
is wholly disallowed ; and, if loss of life occurs, the act
is to be regarded as one of sheer and unadulterated
murder. *
Reprisals.
We may define reprisals j as any act of retaliation
upon an enemy in which an equivalent evil is inflicted
for damage sustained, for instance, an air-raid by the
British on Cologne to balance the German air-raids on
* In the great European war begun in 19 14 it was sometimes
asserted that the Germans had as good a right to raid London a3
the EngUsh had to starve Germany by means of the British fleet.
In both cases non-combatants were the principal sufferers. But
the difference between the two cases is enormous. In certain air-
raids what is directly aimed at is the destruction of non-combatants.
In the blockade of Germany at least it is understood that what was
directly aimed at was the starvation of the German troops, who
would have the first call upon all food coming into the country. Enemy
troops may be deprived of food in either of two ways, first by letting
no food into the country, second by preventing the escape of the
civil population (as in the case of towns besieged) so that the civil
population may eat up the existing supplies. In either case the
object directly aimed at is the starvation of the enemy troops, not
any harm to the civil population.
Whilst, however, the analogy between air-raids and blockade
fails to hold good, an instructive comparison of another kind suggests
itself in connection with our present discussion. If one country may
lawfully blockade another, in order to prevent the supply of food,
the same is lawful on the other side. But, whatever the method of
blockade adopted, the rights of sailors and other civil persons to
their Uves should be respected.
t We use the word here in its popular meaning. In international
law the word " reprisals " is sometimes used to signify any sort of
pressure, short of war, exercised by one nation on another, e.g.
embargo or blockade.
VOL. 11—43
674 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
London and Scarborough. Are these acts of retaliation
lawful ? Our answer is that reprisals are lawful where
the evil that is perpetrated on either side is evil by
reason of treaty only and not by reason of natural law.
If one party to a treaty ceases to abide by its terms it
is no longer to be regarded as binding on the other
party. Thus, the use of poisonous gases by one bel-
ligerent justifies their use by another opposed belligerent,
these things being excluded by treaty only. But where
the evil that is perpetrated by one of the belligerents
is evil by reason of natural law, reprisals are wholly
unlawful. What is evil by natural law remains evil,
even though the natural law should be ignored, and
the forbidden practices indulged, by one of the
parties. It is forbidden, for instance, b}^ natural law
to kill non-combatants, and so, just as A could
not kill B's child because B had killed A's child,
so also it would be quite unlawful for England in
the great war to make air-raids upon German cities
because her own cities had been raided by Germany.
Any satisfaction which is sought should be sought
either at the expense of the enemy forces, they being
the responsible parties, or by way of indemnit}'^ from
the whole nation after the war.
The conditions of a just war.
War is not to be regarded as intrinsically good or as
something which is naturally necessary for human
development. We cannot see any reason, but we see
great unreason, as well as infinite danger, in the doctrine
expressed by Treitschke * that war is not to be re-
garded as a mere remedy against possible evil, or as
tolerable only in rare and abnormal contingencies, but
* In his work, " Die Politik." Treitschke was born at Dresden in
1834. He became professor of History in the University of Berlin,
where ho delivered his famous lectures on Politics. An excellent
account of his wliolc teaching is given in " The Political Thought of
Heinrich von Treitschke," by H. W. C. Davis, M.A.
INTERNATIONAL LAW 675
that it is as necessary as the State itself, that without
war " there would be no States," that "it is only in
war that a people becomes in very deed a people,"
that " to expel war from the universe would be to
mutilate human nature." As well might one say that
disunion and violence are necessary amongst the citizens
of the State, that to repress them is to mutilate human
nature, and that it is the business of the government
to foment disorder in a society threatened with too
much peace. " Peace," writes LawTence,* " does not
necessarily mean sloth and slavery. Men can be manly
without periodical resort to the occupation of mutual
slaughter. It is not necessary to graduate in the school
of arms in order to learn the hard lessons of duty and
honour and self-sacrifice. . . . Ignoble ease has some-
times sapped the virility of nations. But has not war
again and again turned the victors into human swine
and the vanquished into hunted wild beasts ?
So far from being a perfection, war is full of evil. If
it could be avoided, the world, without war, would be a
better world. It is tolerable only for the reasons for
which surgical operations and hanging are tolerable,
i.e. as a means for the cure and prevention of intolerable
ills.
But if war is not a good in itself, neither is it to be
regarded as intrinsically evil. Like the surgical opera-
tion, and killing in self-defence, war, though accom-
panied by, and the cause of much evil, is necessary,
and in certain circumstances is even morally good. It
is evil for an individual to kill an innocent man, but
vit is not evil to kill in self-defence. So the wanton
slaughter of one nation by another is evil, but war
undertaken in self-defence, or in support of another
nation which is being unjustly used, is allowable and
often even necessary in natural law.
To be just, however, a war must fulfil certain con-
ditions. These conditions are : (i) war must be initiated
* op. cit. p. 573.
676 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
by public authorit}^ ; (2) it must be necessary ; (3)
there must be a legitimate and sufficient cause ; (4) a
right intention must be entertained.
(1) Only the sovereign power or the person, or body
designated by the sovereign power in the constitution,
can lawfully declare war. War is an act of the nation
as such, and it may be declared only by the sovereign
power which represents the nation, or by some person
or body designated by the sovereign power through the
constitution. In England, the monarch declares war
through his government.' In France, the President
declares war with the consent of the two chambers. In
the United States, war is declared by Congress.
(2) War must be necessary' for the vindication of
some right which is violated. If an apology suffices
and is tendered, war should not be waged. If full
reparation is offered it should not be refused. For this
reason also, although an ultimatum is not delivered in
every case, it should be sent where possible. A ruthless
and desolating war might often be averted by the formal
presenting of an ultimatum.*
(3) There must be a just and sufficient cause, such
as loss of territory, of honour, of property, or some
other grave injustice to the nation.
The ]ust causes of war are many and could not
possibly be enumerated here. But it may be useful
to refer to certain causes which are not legitimate, i.e.
which are not sufficient to justify recourse to war.
War may not be lawfully waged for the sake of terri-
torial aggrandisement or for mere glory. Neither can
it be waged through jealousy or apprehension of a
growing rival, or to maintain the " balance of power "
as it is called. A State that attempted to expand at
the expense of other States, or that made manifest its
intention, whether formally or in any equivalent way,
of using its growing strength for the purpose of unjust
aggression against other States, might legitimately be
• See Wchtlakc, " International Law," II 14,
INTERNATIONAL LAW 677
impeded from reaching a degree of expansion dangerous
to the other powers in question. But in the absence
of such certain and manifest intention on the part of
a rival State, to go to war merely for the sake of pre-
serving the balance of power would be a gross injustice,
a serious and wanton interference with the inherent
right of every State to utilise its capacity for expansion
within just and legal limits. Finally, war may not be
waged in defence of what is not strictly a right in justice.
It could not be waged on account of want of friend-
ship * or benevolence on the part of another nation ;
but if by force or fraud the friendship of any two nations
is broken down by a third, or if by force or fraud one
of the two States is prevented from doing to another
those acts of friendship which it earnestly desires to
perform, such interference is said to entitle the injured
State to seek redress and vindicate its honour even by
force of arms.
(4) A right intention is necessary. It would not be
allowable, whilst outwardly and seemingly waging war
in order to vindicate even a right which has in truth
been violated, inwardly and really to wage it for some
other illegitimate purpose, for instance, to get rid of a
great military or naval rival. A bad intention can
vitiate an act, otherwise legitimate, in war as in every
other department of human conduct.
The close of war.
A principle of great importance in connection with
the ethics of war is the principle that victory confers
on the victor no special rights over his opponents.!
The rights enjoyed by the victor' at the close of a war
* When war is said to be caused by an " unfriendly act," what is
generally referred to is, not mere unfriendliness, but some small
violation of justice.
t See p. 521, where it is shown that though victory and conquest
confer no authority upon the victor, yet after conquest political
authority may pass to the victor on another title.
678 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
are those rights which were present from the beginning
of the war — they are not added to by his victory.
If, therefore, a war is unjust, the victor acquires no
rights whatsoever over the conquered people and
territory. On the contrary, he should make restitu-
tion for all the loss he has inflicted on his enemy.
Again, even in a just war, victory confers no right of
depriving the conquered people of their sovereignty
and freedom. That right may belong to the victor
on other grounds ; it does not arise on the ground of
victory alone. In other words, the rights and wrongs
of war are determined b}' those abiding moral principles
which govern the relations of States, and they remain
the same, no matter which of the combatants is vic-
torious or is subdued.
In a iust war the side to which victory falls enjoys
three rights only, first, the right to recover property
or honour according to the injustice which has been
done ; secondly, the right to exact compensation for
losses contracted in the war ; thirdly, the right to put
down an attitude of permanent hostility on the part of
the defeated State, else a recurrence of the war is only
a matter of time and opportunity. If subjugation is
required for this end, subjugation is lawful. But war
is of its nature defensive, and, therefore, subjugation
would not be lawful for the mere purpose of preventing
future possible aggression which is not now in any way
threatened.* Ordinary and remote possibilities of future
war can never be dissociated from the contending
interests of powerful rival States, and thej' cannot be
regarded as a legitimate cause of war.
Whether wars will ever be wholly eliminated as
development proceeds, and society becomes more and
more consolidated and unified, it would be impossible
to say ; whether peaceful arbitration, or some other
method more suitable than war for determining the
• It IS threatened, even now, if the permanent attitude of the de-
feated State ia one of aggression.
I
I
INTERNATIONAL LAW 679
issues of public justice, will ever become the universally
accepted substitute for war, it would be idle to discuss.
But, certainly, to that end the world in time of peace
should direct its best and most untiring efforts. But
if with time it becomes evident that the chancelleries
of the world are unable to devise, or through their
mutual jealousies are prevented from agreeing upon,
some more human method for the settling of inter-
national disputes than that method of which the brute
animals are the finished exponents, the method, namely,
of tooth and claw, of blood and slaughter, of endless
pain and misery, then it is for the peoples themselves,
on whom the burden and horrors of war fall most
heavily and assuredly, to approach the problem, to
devise a better method, and by every constitutional
means at their disposal to see that it is accepted by
the governments of the world.
APPENDICES
The Financial Impossibility of Socialism
On p. 260 we developed an argument showing that socialism
is financially impossible, unless the method resorted to is that
of complete confiscation and robbery, and such a method,
we presumed, would not be approved by the conscience of
socialists any more than that of other persons. Every man
has a right to compensation for property justly acquired,
and this right holds not only as against other individuals
but also as against the State,
We wish in the present appendix to point out that this
argument holds good, whether the method proposed for
nationalising all capital is that of depriving owners of their
property during their lives, or depriving their heirs of it at
the death of the original owners. When a workman out of
his hard earnings saves a hundred pounds, not only has he
a natural right to use that hundred pounds during his life
but he has a natural* right also to bequeath it to his children.
.The children are then the true owners, and the State has no
more right to deprive them of their property than to con-
fiscate it during the life of the parent. Of course, the State
has a full right to exact something by way of death-duty
when property is bequeathed. The State must be supported,
and it is for the State to determine the manner in which its
support is to be secured. But the State has no right to more
than is required for its support and its work. It has no right
to more than a contribution out of the possessions of its
subjects. The essential rights of property it must leave
intact.
Economically, also, the system which we are here con-
sidering is bound to prove most deleterious to the community.
* Socialists are wont to deny this. They say that the right of
bequest is from the State alone. But this theory is absolutely ground-
less. The right of bequest is contained in the very conception of
ownership which is nothing more than the right of the full disposal
of one's property. Since, therefore, ownership is natural, the right
of bequest is also natural. The socialist position on this whole
question of bequest is fully given in Rignano's work " Un Socialisme
en harmonic avec la Doctrine ficonomique Liberale."
681
682 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
What workman, for instance, would dream of saving a hundred
pounds if he knew that the State would confiscate it at his
death, or, if it were saved, would fail to squander it before
it could pass into the possession of the State ? And what is
true of the poor is true of the rich also ; there is no property
so great that it could not be squandered in a decade of year?.
Socialism, therefore, under any form, acts as a preventive
to the accumulation of capital, and we know that, without
increase of capital, industry not only cannot advance but
must of necessity decline.
Revelation and Natural Religion
Of the relation in which natural rehgion stands to revealed,
a fuller statement may be attempted here than was possible
in our chapter on natural religion.
Whether any revelation was made in the beginning, and
what the truths that were revealed, are questions that
belong to doctrinal Theology rather than to Ethics, which
is the science of natural morals only, as inculcated by reason.
But our natural reason suggests to us the two following .
considerations which the reader should bear in mind when
determining the relation of natural to revealed rehgion.
I. That natural religion preceded revealed religion in
point of time could not be guaranteed, since even natural
reason must recognise that a revelation might be made at
the earliest moment in the history of mankind, whereas
natural religion would require some tmie for its development.
The question of fact — whether God did reveal Himself to
man in the beginning of things is, as we said, a question for
Theology not for Ethics.
But, logically, natural religion is certainly prior to re-
vealed, in the sense that natural religion was a necessary
implication of reason from the beginning, whereas revealed
religion was not. Moreover, lumian reason, if left to itself,
would certainly establish a religion, since it should nccessarilj'
become aware of God's existence and of man's dependence
on God. Such rcliginn would, of course, become in time '
subject to many misconceptions, but its inner ground and
substance would still be true and have its own value in spite
of these misconceptions.
APPENDICES 683
II. Whether the rehgions of the existing savage races
are due to revelation, or are a product of natural reason
only, has been widely discussed both by those who admit
that an early revelation was made to man and by those who
do not. Granted that a revelation was made in the be-
ginning, still, the present religions of savages might well
be based on reason alone, through the original revelation
having been forgotten, a supposition that is not to be dis-
missed as impossible in the case of peoples that have been
cut off, through most of their history, from contact with
the rest of the human race. We believe, however, that
the results of modern investigation into the religion of
savages can hardly be said to favour this view that their
reUgion is a product of reason only, independently of revela-
tion. Although it is certain that natural reason, without
the aid of revelation, should of necessity attain to some
knowledge of God, and of man's duties towards Him, still,
knowing what we do of the vacillations of reason, the blind-
ing effect of passion, the paralysis of mind produced by
poverty and long-continued isolation from the rest of man-
kind, we think it is hardly possible that the savage races
could have developed their present religious beliefs without
revelation of some kind. The beliefs of some savage races,
particularly those of more primitive type, represent the
highest and purest form of monotheism, and these beUefs,
coupled with the kind of sacrifice customary amongst them,
that, viz. of the first fruits, and their lofty marriage system
which is that of the strictest monogyny (p. 45), afford, to
our minds, very strong evidence that at least what is
fundamental in present-day savage religion is to be traced
in the first instance to an ancient revelation, and not to
human reason alone, acting independently of revelation.
See series of articles in " Anthropos," vols. III., IV., V.
(1908-1910), by P. G. Schmidt ; or his work, " L'Origine
de V Idee de Dieu " (p. 108).
INDEX OF SUBJECTS
r
Abimty, a factor of production,
i88 and foil., I99 ; exclusive ab.
to govern — a title of authority,
537-
Accretion, 147.
Administrative courts, 630.
Advocates, duties of, 616.
African religions, 36-37.
Air-raids, 671.
Alliances, 565.
Andamanese, 37-39, 460.
Animals, lawful to kill, 86-92.
Aristocracy, 559, 574-575-
Auction sales, 320.
Australian savages, 34-36, 44,
410 and foil.
Authority, political — nature of,
515 ; grounds of, 515-517 ;
titles of, 515-538 ; consequences
of, 538-544 ; attributes of, 544-
556.
Bailments, 328.
Bequest, and ownership, 145.
Brother and sister marriages,
447-
Buying and selling, 315.
Capital, its meaning, 150.
Celibacy, 49, 64.
Chamber, two ch. system, 606.
Chance, contracts of, 326.
Charity, a part of religion, i ;
a duty of religion, 23-31 ; love
of neighbour, 66—68.
Chastity, 64.
Chinese Republic, president of,
562.
Combatants in war, 669.
Communism, 116.
Concentration, industrial, 162-
184.
Concordats, 657.
Confederations, 565 ; Swiss,
566 ; Germanic, 566.
Conquest, a title of political
authority, 521-537.
Consanguinity, impediment of,
443-451-
Consent, 298 ; a title of autho-
rity, 532-537, 538-
Consideration, 307.
Constitutions, 567-570.
Contract, in general, 298-312 ;
kinds of, 309 ; particular con-
tracts, 312-353.
Contumely, iio.
Craniotomy, 102 note.
Criminals, may be put to death,
93-
Crises, industrial, 201-214.
Damage, 380.
Death, indirect compassing of,
56-59 ; suicide, 52-56.
Delegations, Austrian, 537.
Democracy, 559, 575-583-
Dependent States, 634.
Derision, 112.
Detraction, hi.
Divorce, 429.
Drunkenness, 62.
Duelling, 105-109.
Education, right of State to
control, 486.
Election, a title of authority,
519.
Endogamy and exogamy, 451.
Error, effect on contract, 302-
305-
Executive, 610-614.
Family, and private ownership,
122-126 ; under socialism, 268-
271 ; and marriage, 388 ; re-
lation to State, 465.
685
686
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Fear, relation to contract, 304.
Friendship, charity, 66-68 ; in-
jury to, 112 ; and marriage,
440.
Gift, 144, 314.
Government, how a de facto g.
becomes legitimised, 521-537 ;
parliamentary, 626-628; cab-
inet, 628-630.
Hammurabi, code of, 295.
Honour, injury to, no.
Impediments to marriage, 442-
451.
Impotence, 442.
Incentives, absence under social-
ism, 243-247, 275.
Increment, unearned, 290.
Infertility, relation to indis-
solubility of marriage, 441.
Inheritance, 144, 145-147.
Injustice, 372-384.
Interest on money, 328-334.
Interference, governmental,
477-
International law, 633-679 ;
subjects of, 633-635 ; kinds of,'
C35-636 ; nature of, 636-640 ;
some precepts of, are natural,
640-647 ; justice, 647 ; charity,
654-
Intervention, theory of non-,
655-
Intestate succession, 146.
Judges, duties of, 614.
Judiciary, 614-618.
Jury, trial by, 617.
Justice, its nature, 80 ; distri-
butive and commutative, 80-
81, 85; commutative — its
ground, 81-84 ; commutative
— its end, 84-86 ; commutative
— formula of, 85.
Killing in self-defence, 97-103 ;
accidental, 103-105.
Kingship — See Monarchy.
LAnouR, a title of ownership, 143 ;
surplus value of, 185-201 ; not
sole factor in production, 187
and foil. ; capitalist exploita-
tion of, 214-216 ; re.scrvc army
of, 217-220.
Land — See nationalisation ; theory
of primitive communism in,
291-297 ; number of persons-
obtaining Hving from, 288.
Law, relation of civil to natural,.
599 ; international, 633-679.
Legislation, 599-610.
Levirat, 458.
Liberty, right of, 1 09-1 10.
Lies, 67-79.
Malthusianism, 480.
Mana, 42.
Manu, law of, 458.
Maoris, religion of, 39-40.
Marriage, 64, 389-460 ; group-
marriage, 410-414; laws of,
415, 436 note ; unity of, 419 ;:
indissolubiUty of, 429-442, 460 ;
restriction of by State, 479.
Matriarchate, 409, 520.
Mental restrictions, 77-79.
Mir, Russian, 292, 295.
Mischief -making, 112.
Misrepresentation, 304.
Monarch, British, 592-598.
Monarchy, 559, 570-573.
Monandry, 425.
Money, loan of, 328.
Monogyny, 419.
Monopoly, 174, 225, 275-279.
Monotheism, 43-46.
Murder, 98.
Nationalisation, of capital — See
Socialism ; limits of, 275-279 ;
of land, 280-288 ; of coal-mines,'
2S9 ; of building-sites, 290.
Nationalities, 507-513 ; princi-
ple of ' nationality,' 513 note ;
subjugated nationalities, 536.
Nature, state of, 491-499.
NlYOGA, 458.
Nomadic races, not a State, 514.
Occupancy, i 37-143 ; State oc:.,
650.
Occupation, in war, 671.
Ochlocracy, 559.
Ownership, private, definition of,
113 ; divisions of, 114 ; grounds
of, 1 15-132 ; scope of, or duties
attached to, 133-136 ; titles, of
1 36-149 ; in capital — See Social-
ism.
INDEX
687
Parents, responsibility to chil-
dren— See Marriage ; * parent
and child ' marriages, 444.
Party system, 601-604 ; dual p.,
604-606.
Patriarchal theory of origin of
State, 466, 469 note, 470, 497,
520.
People and nationality, 50S.
Polity, 559.
Polyandry, 425, 456.
Polygyny, 415, 455.
Possession, mala fide, 377 ; bona
fid^, 379 ; ^ title of political
authority, 519.
Powers of sovereignty, 599-632 ;
separation of, 618-632.
Prescription, a title of owner-
ship, 147 ; a title of political
authority, 522-532.
Price, the just, 316.
Production, sur commande, 212 ;
under socialism, 257-259.
Promiscuity, sexual, 404-414,
Promise, 314.
Punishment, 93, 109.
Pygmy races, 37-39, 45, 409, 455-
Rebellion, 535 note, 540.
Rebels, as hostages, 671.
Referendum, 576-579.
Religion, natural, definition of,
I ; derivation of word, i ;
primitive religions, i ; and
justice, 2, 3 ; its nature, 3 ;
essential act of, 4 ; false re-
ligions, 5 ; presuppositions of,
5-10 ; ground and necessity of,
11-15 ; a special virtue, 13 ;
elicited and commanded acts of,
14, 15 ; acts of, 20-22 ; alleged
pre-religious period, 31-46 ;
false theories of, 40-46.
Reprisals, 673.
Reputation, injury to, iii.
Restitution, 372, 384.
Savage races, religion of, 8, 9,
31-46 ; marriage, 404-414, 451-
460 passim.
Sea, appropriation of, 652.
Secession, right of, 512.
Self-defence — See Killing.
Self-sufficiency of State, 464,
513.
Sex, law of temperance in, 63.
Social-contract theory, 491-
503-
Socialism, 150-297 ; financial
impossibility of, 260, 681.
Society, nature and kinds, 385.
Sovereignty, 494, 499, 545-556.
Spies, killing of, 670.
State, nature of, 461 ; origin of,
462-472 ; a self-sufficient so-
ciety, 464 ; a natural society,
471 ; end of, 472 ; interference
t>y, 477 ; rights re marriage,
479 ; rights re education, 486 ;
parts of, 504 ; relation to
family, 505 ; territory of, 513-
514 ; authority of, 515-556 ;
forms of, 558-567 ; unitary and
federal, 563 ; the best, 584-
591 ; functions of, 599-632.
Stealing, 375.
Strikes, 354-371-
Suicide, 52-56, 102.
Swiss ' referendum ' and ' initia-
tive,' 575.
Syndicalism, 160-161.
Taxation, 611-614.
Temperance, 59-66.
Trades-union executives, 363.
Treaties, 657-662.
Trusts — See Concentration, and
Monopoly.
Truth, 69-79.
Tyrannis, 572-573-
Uncivilised communities — See
savage races ; relation to inter-
national law, 634, 651.
Unemployed — See labour — re-
serve army of.
Union of States, 566, 567.
Unity of political authority, 546.
Urabunna tribe, 410-411.
Village-communities, 463.
Virginity, 65.
Vivisection, 92.
Vow, 18.
Wages, iron law of, 220-224 » ^J^d
socialist incomes, 225-252 ; con-
tract of, 334-353 ; minimum
just wage, 343.
War, 663-679 ; definition, 663 ;
kinds, 663 ; lawful war always
defensive, 664 ; killing is in-
direct in war, 666 ; conditions
of just, 674 ; close of, 677.
LIST OF AUTHORS REFERRED TO
IN THIS WORK
Amos, Sheldon, 598.
Anson, Sir Wm., 300, 309, 310,
596, 597.
Aristotle, the arts, 24 ; justice,
85 ; rights of animals, 89-91 ;
private ownership, 125-134 /^as-
sim, 152 ; theory of value, 186-
187 ; marriage, 401, 418, 422 ;
the State, 462-476 passim, 506,
513, 538, 558-563 passim, 567-
599 passim.
Ashley, W. J., 166, 296, 333.
AsQUiTH, Right Hon. H., 512.
Augustine, St., 76.
Austin, John, 136, 555-556.
AvEBURY, Lord, 32-39 passim,
402-409 passim, 451, 452, 454.
Baboeuf, F. N., 154.
Bachofen, 409.
Bacon, 393.
Bailey, 445.
Bagehot, W., 591, 607,
Bastable, C. F., 282.
Bebel, 152.
Bellarmine, Card., 491, 499-
503 passim.
Bernstein, 159, 161, 164, 168,
182.
Best, Elsdon, 39.
Beveridge, W. H., 220.
Birch, S., 294.
Blanc, Louis, 155.
Bluntschli, 511, 515, 619.
BoDiN, 552.
BOSANQUET, B., 76, 417, 476, 485.
BoscAWEN, Wm. St. Chad., 294.
Broglie, de, 44.
Brown, A. R., 38.
Brown, C. H., 33.
Brown, W. J., 277.
Bryce, Lord, 467, 548, 549, 554,.
589, 624, 625, 626.
BucHan, J., 7.
BucHER, Stein, 237.
Burnell, a. Cook, 459.
Burns, 440.
Bury, J. B., 468.
Butler, 29.
Caldecott, a., 14.
Campanella, 153.
Cannan, Edwin, 221.
Carver, T. N., 333, 341.
Castelein, a., 525.
Cathrein, v., 153, 295, 525, 531,
532, 548.
Chapman, S. J., 178, 179, 207, 219,
220.
Cicero, 407.
COMTE, A., 467.
Cook, S. A., 295.
CouLANGES, Fustel de, 286, 296.
Cox, Harold, 289.
Crawley, A., 452.
D.wis, H. W. C, 606, 627, 674.
DE Laveleye, 291-297 passim,
Devas, C. S., 457.
Dicey, A. V., 520, 550, 578.
Dunbar, C. F., 208.
Ely, R. F., 177, 179.
Engels, F., 152, 156, 158, 202,.
206, 211.
Ensor, R. C. K., 153.
Eucken, 2.
Fabians, 159, 229.
FisoN and Howitt, 411.
Flint, Robert, 237, 239, 283..
Fowler, W. Warde, 469.
689
690
THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS
Fourier, Ch. 154.
Frazer, Sir J. G., 10, ^,1, 452,
453, 454-
Freeman, E. A., 575, 595.
George, Henry, 288
GiBBS, Philip, 434.
GiDDiNGS, F. H., 410, 463.
GiFFEN, Sir R., 221.
Girard, F., 139, 148.
Godwin, 154.
GoscHEN, Viscount, 183.
Green, T. H., 556.
Grote, G., 331, 618.
Grotius, 658.
GuESDE, 159.
GUYAU, 53.
Hall, W. E., 653, 658, 660, 662.
Halle, von, 180.
Hahn, Th., 37, 44.
Harrington, 153.
Hartland, E. S., 410, 454.
Hartmann, von, 14.
Herkner, 208, 212.
HOBBES, 137, 153, 467, 476, 491-
499 passim, 580, 591.
HoBHOUSE, L. T., 40, 41, 46, 457,
468.
HoBsoN, J. A., 170, 204.
Howard, G. E., 414.
HowiTT, A. W., 35, 44, 411.
Hume, 7, 46,
Humphrey, J. H., 579.
Hyndman, H. M., 159.
Indermaur, J., 310.
Ireson, Frank, 226-240 passim,
268.
Jastrow, Morris, 10, 42.
Jaures, 159.
Jellinek, 464, 552,
Jevons, F. B., 3G, 209.
Johns, C. H. W., 295.
Joyce, P. W., 297.
Kant, 7, 13, 29, 46, 467, 47O,
491-499 passim.
King, L. W., 294, 295.
Kautsky, K., 152, 158, 159, 165,
173, 223, 233, 243, 247,
Laod, G. F., 10, 13.
Landry, A., 213,
Lang, Andrew, 33, 35, 37, 44,
411.
Lassalle, F., 155, 156.
Lawrence, T. J., 141, 547, 634,
640, 642, 646, 658, 660, 675,
Le Bon, 192, 196, 241,
Lehmkuhl, 359, 379.
Leo Xin, 168, 281, 283.
Le Roy, 36, 37, 39, 42, 409, 453,
456, 460.
Leroy-Beaulieu, 218, 246, 281,
285, 286.
Levi, Leone, 234.
Levy, H., 176.
Lewinski, Jan St., 296.
Locke, 98, 137, 139, 143, 153,
431, 467. 476, 491-499 passim.
Lowell, A. L., 578, 609, 630.
Lugo, Card, de, 97, 99, 101.
Mackenzie, Lord, 136.
Macrosty, H. W., 201.
McLennan, J. F., 409, 451, 452,
457, 458, 459, 466.
Maine, Sir H., 428, 453, 466, 468,
460, 578, .586.
Mallock, W. H., 191, 193, 195,
240, 289.
Man, E. H., 37, 38, 407, 408.
Marett, R. R., 41, 42.
Markby, Sir W., 139, 140, 144.
Marshall, A., 219.
Marx, Karl, 152, 154, 156-158,
161-224 passim, 253.
Meredith, G., 54.
Meredith, J., 579.
Mermeix, 218, 288.
Meyer, T., 525, 532, 540.
Mill, J. S., 148, 154, 189, 208,
281, 467, 479, 480, 482, 490,
527, 579, 584, 607, 623.
Millerand, 159, 161.
Money, Chiozza L. G., 222, 226-
240 passim.
Montesquieu, 475, 618-632 pas-
sim.
More, Sir T., 153.
Morgan, Lewis, 412.
MiJLLER, Max, 14, 33.
Newman, N. L., 467, 472.
Nicholson, J. S., 190, 205, 207.
O'CuRRY, Eugcno, 293.
LIST OF AUTHORS
691
Palgrave, R. H. I., 207,
Pelham, H. F., 468.
Pesch, Chr., 44.
Plato, 124, 152.
Plunkett, Sir H., 284.
Pollock, Sir F., 103, 105, 477.
Primrose, Sir H., 228.
Rae, J., 182.
Ratzel, 407.
Reinach, ig,
RiCKABY, Joseph, on religion, 16 ;
on charity, 23 ; on duelling,
105 ; on indiss. of marriage,
432 ; on rebellion, 542.
RiDGWAY, W., 42.
RiGNANO, 681.
Rivers, W. H. R., 404, 407.
Robertson, 511.
Rodbertus, Karl, 155, 208.
RosKOFF, Gustav, 33.
Rousseau, 153, 154, 467, 491-
499 passim, 554, 556, 602.
Salmond, J. W., 136, 139, 148.
Saussaye, de la, 33.
Sayce, a. H., II.
schaeffle, a. e. f., i58.
Schleiermacher, 14.
schiffini, 525, 658.
Schmidt, P. W., 38, 44, 45, 455.
Schmidt, R. P. G., 43-46, 683.
Seebohm, F., 293.
Seeley, Sir J. R., 467, 470, 475,
556, 592, 596.
Seligman, E. R. a., 204, 206, 213.
Sheane, J. W. West, 37.
Schrader, O , 406, 468.
SiDGWiCK, H., 478, 497, 550, 573,
592.
SiGERSON, G., 293, 297.
Simkhowitch, W. G., 295.
Sims, 231.
SiSMONDI, 208.
Skeat, Ch. O., 45, 455.
Smith, G., 295.
SoMBART, Werner, 164, 169, 207,
208, 221, 222.
Spencer, H., religion, 36, 40 ;
exogamy, 452 ; Levirat, 458 ;
origin of State, 469, 470, 476.
Spencer and Gillen, 34, 410.
Spinoza, 491-499 passim.
Sprague, O. M. W., 208.
St. Simon, 154.
Starcke, C. v., 403, 413, 451,
452, 454-
Stephens, Morse, 566.
Suarez, 491, 499-503 passim, 517.
Sullivan, W. K., 293.
Taparelli, 525.
Taussig, F. W., 208.
Taylor, Hannis, 655, 656, 660,
662.
Tennyson, 592.
Thomas, N. W., 411.
Thomas, St., religion, 1-46 pas-
sim ; charity, 25, 66 ; suicide,
52 ; temperance, 60 ; the lie,
67-J8 passim ; animal and man,
88 ; killing of animals, 93 ;
murder, 96 ; killing in self-
defence, 98 ; contumely, 1 1 1 ;
derision, 112 ; private owner-
ship, 126-136 passim ; money
loans, 331 ; marriage, 392, 398,
407, 418, 422, 432, 433, 438,
443, 446, 448, 449, 456; se-
dition, 542.
Thompson, R. J., 286.
TiELE, C. P., 10.
Thucydides, 468.
Todd, A. W., 595,
Treitschke, H. von, 606, 618,
627, 674.
Tylor, E. B., 33, 40, 404, 454.
Vandervelde, E., 159, 161, 166,
171.
Victoria, Queen, 598.
Walker, F. A., 331.
Wallace, A. R., 283.
Waterhouse, E. S., 14.
Webb, Sidney, 159, 221.
Webb, A. D., 166, 168, 172, 217,
234, 237, 239, 240, 250, 260,
288.
Westermarck, E., I, 139, 402,
403, 405, 406, 407, 413, 414,
422, 428, 445, 451, 453, 454,
455, 456, 457'
Westlake, John, 567, 634, 671,
676.
Young, Arthur, 284.
I'nnlid by M. 11. CJii.i. & .S(\S, Ltu., Diibltn.
BINDING SECT. AUG 1 1968
BJ Cronin, Michael
1011 The science of ethics
C7 c2d ed., rev. and enl,^
1920
V.2
cop. 2
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